Say Uncle
by girlyghoul
Summary: Bobby's lost adventures between Hello, Cruel World & Girl Next Door. How he escaped the fire, got the boys to Rufus' cabin & nursed them back to health. Hurt!Sick!Boys, Delirious!Dean, Hellucinating!Sam. Super!Caring!Bobby. Plus Wee!Chester flashbacks.
1. Chapter 1

SUMMARY: Ever wonder how the heck Bobby escaped that fire in "Hello Cruel World" or what happened during the three weeks the boys were recuperating at Rufus's place in "Girl Next Door"? Well, this is my take on how it all went down.

Lots of hurt/comfort, angst, Wee!Chester Flashbacks and a heavy dose of Awesome!Bobby!

WARNINGS: Some cuss words, violence and nekkid boys in later chapters! (Woo hoo!)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own and didn't create these characters. I just made 'em all angsty… (and nekkid!)

* * *

><p>SAY UNCLE<p>

"_I'm falling back. Meet me at the house. We can regroup!"_

Bobby didn't bother signing off as he flipped his phone shut. He was too focused on making a mental inventory of all the weapons, potions and occult artifacts in stock at his house. There had to be something, anything that could stop these big mouthed, innards eating freaks! If silver didn't work then maybe iron or some kind of holy wood or even…

"Fire!... Oh, Good Lord… No…!"

It took several seconds for his brain to register what his eyes were seeing, but the giant orange flames dancing in the night sky were coming from his house! The shock of witnessing his home being turned to rubble distracted him to the point that he almost didn't see the five humanoid figures standing sentinel around the perimeter of his yard until he was nearly upon them. In the illumination of his headlights and the back glow of the fire they simultaneously tossed their heads back to reveal faces full of jagged teeth and serpentine tongues.

"Balls!"

The old hunter's first instinct was to mow them down with his truck and find out if Leviathan were immune to a brand new set of Claw Radials. Instead he cut sharply to the left, covering the toothy bastards in a spray of dirt and gravel as he pulled a 180 in his driveway and sped back towards the street.

Glancing in his rearview mirror he saw that the creatures had given chase on foot. He wasn't sure how fast these things could move in their present form, but figured he'd find out soon enough if they were able to catch up to him. He seemed to be pulling a good distance ahead of his pursuers when all at once he was blinded by a blue white light shining directly in his eyes.

Immediately he thought Castiel had somehow returned to save the day- or else smite him on the spot. It turned out to just be some jackass in a Camaro with a set of those fancy Halogen headlights. Mr. Blue-Light Special was speeding straight towards him on the narrow road, and as the drag-racing douchebag refused to dim his high-beams or yield an inch, Bobby had no choice but to swerve to the right to avoid a head-on collision.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore as the front end of his truck was forced into a shallow ditch by the side of the road.

He'd barely had a chance to catch his breath from the near miss when with the screeching of tires and blaring of horn, the moron in the Camaro slammed straight into the charging Leviathans. Bobby whipped his head around and watched as one Big Mouth was hurled a good 20 feet into the air while another was crushed under wheel. Completely undaunted, the remaining three swarmed down upon the sports car, easily breaking through the windshield and hauling its hapless owner out onto the hood.

Bobby knew there was nothing he could do to save the Fast and Furious Idgit, so he backed out of the ditch and quickly fled the scene while the Leviathans were still eating high on the road hog.

Speeding away from his original destination, a wave of despair swept over him and the realization of all that he had lost began to sink in. The house that had been his home for over 40 years; the place where he and his beloved Karen had started their new life together, and where that life had ended; all his photographs; his books, his weapons, the Panic Room he'd built with his bare hands; every protective spell he'd ever cast, every Devil's Trap he'd ever painted- all had gone up in smoke before his very eyes.

He felt exposed, vulnerable, a ship adrift in the ocean with no land in sight. For the first time in his life, he was homeless. Just another roving hunter without a steady place to hang his hat when the gig was done. He imagined this is how it must have felt for the Winchester boys in the years when their father was dragging them all over the country from one hunt to the next.

"Hell's Bells! The boys!" he gasped aloud.

Now was not the time to be getting all misty eyed and sentimental when Sam and Dean were at that very moment driving straight into an ambush. He flipped open his cell phone preparing to warn them to change course immediately. They could figure out where to rendezvous later when everyone was safe and accounted for. But before his thumb could hit redial, his attention was diverted by an all too familiar blue white light appearing behind him.

The glare beaming off his rearview mirror was much too bright for him to make out its source, but he knew exactly what he was dealing with. Those damned Leviathans might not be able to catch up to him on foot, but they sure as Hell could reach him in a carjacked Camaro with fancy Halogen headlights!

"All right you ass-clowns," he grumbled, "Just try and keep up with this!"

Putting the peddle to the floor he raced towards a dirt road that only wilderness junkies or seasoned hunters like himself were familiar with. He had no doubt that beings smart enough to figure out how to drive a car would also be able to follow his tracks, but the rough terrain would at least slow them down. Camaros weren't built for off-road travel after all.

When the road ended at the edge of a wooded area, he killed the engine and quickly grabbed his cell phone, weapons bag and as many I.D.s as he could pull from the glove compartment. Exiting the vehicle, he purposefully left the driver's side door open to a well-worn path that cut through the dense forest. This was a five mile hiking trail that would lead him straight into town where he could easily flag down a passing car or hide out at the local watering hole.

And since heading into town was the safest, most logical course of action- naturally he didn't take it.

Instead he climbed up a steep embankment beyond the trail, scrambling over damp leaves, fallen limbs and jagged rocks with only the light of the moon to guide him through the trees and tangled brush. At last he reached a thicket at the top of the slope and burrowed his way through the prickly leaves and thorny branches. Once inside he nearly collapsed, struggling to catch his breath. Damn it all, but he was getting too old for this!

Back when all he had a notion to hunt was deer, elk and the occasional mountain lion, this thicket was his favorite outlook to camouflage himself from his quarry. Now that he was the one being hunted, he could only pray it would still prove to be as good of a hideout.

He'd barely had a chance to get himself comfortable and unpack his guns when those damned blue white headlights caught up to his abandoned truck. He held his breath, watching as four figures stepped out of the Camaro and took a quick assessment of the empty vehicle as well as the surrounding area.

Just as he had hoped three of the butt-ugly varmints took off down the trail, never suspecting his true location. Unfortunately, butt-ugly #4 chose to remain behind, thus blocking his escape route and increasing his chances of being spotted.

As for the fifth butt-ugly, Bobby knew better than to assume it had actually met its end at the hand of that recently departed reckless driver. No, most likely it was still at the Salvage Yard, lying in wait for the boys to show up.

Oh, God! The boys... his boys! He felt so damned helpless stuck here and unable to reach them. But he didn't dare make a sound or even move enough to send a text message. Not with Mr. Yuck Mouth standing guard right below him.

He wasn't about to give himself up or wave the white flag and say 'uncle' now. Those boys needed him to stick around and watch out for their asses. That was the mantra that had always kept him focused, kept him fighting- even against the worst of odds.

And although he'd never admit it out loud, not even after several beers, he'd considered looking out for the Winchester brothers to be his most important mission in life for over 25 years…

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><p><em>Bobby Singer couldn't believe the mess he'd stepped right into. Here he was, 35 years old, a widower, veteran demon hunter, walking encyclopedia of the occult- and now babysitter to John Winchester's snot nosed brats. <em>

_When Jim Murphy had first introduced him to Winchester about a year or so ago, he'd quickly sized the man up as one cocky, stubborn son of a bitch. And yet as it turned out, he had a lot in common with the brash new hunter. They'd both lost their wives to something unexplainable, both had a drive to hunt and kill as many evil things as they could find, and both shared a certain reckless abandon that pushed them farther than many hunters dared to go. One thing they didn't have in common though was that John Winchester a father raising two young sons on his own. _

_Pastor Jim had mentioned once that John was already training his oldest son in the ways of the hunt, and Bobby had taken that to mean the kid must have been about 16 or 17 at the least. So when Winchester asked him to keep an eye on his boys for a weekend while he and Murphy looked into a possible demon nest, Bobby had agreed. He could use a couple strong young bodies to help out in the auto yard._

_He was not at all prepared to open his door to a small child a decade younger than he'd been expecting - with an even smaller rug rat glued to his hip._

_The kid staring up at him was a skinny little thing, all freckles and big green eyes. Eyes that were warily sizing him up, looking for any sign of weakness or potential threat. Eyes that had already witnessed more than the average person would see in a lifetime. A hunter's eyes. Eyes that absolutely did not belong on a face so young. In that moment, Bobby's assessment of John Winchester was downgraded from son of a bitch to outright bastard._

_As for the younger boy… well, Bobby wasn't sure that he had eyes. The top half of his face was completely covered by an unruly mop of chestnut curls while the bottom half was hidden behind a chubby balled up fist, the thumb of which was plunged deep into the kid's mouth. The tot's other hand was clasped firmly against his brother's, holding on so tight that there had to be some pain involved._

_Bobby frowned. He didn't know anything about kids, especially not kids as young as this. He didn't know what to do with 'em, how to talk to 'em, what to feed 'em or when put 'em to bed. And he hoped to high Heaven that there weren't going to be any toilet issues with the little one, 'cause he didn't know a thing about that either!_

_Completely at a loss, he figured he had to break the ice somehow._

"_I'm Bobby Singer," he told the boys, "A friend of your Pa's. I'm gonna be looking after y'all for a couple days so… uhh… I guess if you want… you can call me 'Uncle Bobby'."_

"_You're our mom's brother?" the older one asked, brow furrowed with suspicion._

"_No... " Bobby groused, "It's just a figure of speech."_

_Damn, tough crowd. It dawned on him suddenly that he didn't have any toys or games or anything that would interest small children. Hell, he didn't even have Cable TV! What he did have at least was three pounds of ground beef, a sack of potatoes and some salad fixin's in the kitchen._

"_You kids like burgers n' fries?" he asked hopefully._

_The bigger kid's eyes grew huge with longing while the wee one took his thumb out of his mouth long enough to shout "Yay! Boogers!"_

"_Not boogers, Sammy!" the older brother snorted into his hand, smiling for the first time since he'd arrived. "Burgers!"_

"_Dat what I said!" the boy genius insisted._

_Bobby chuckled as he led the pair into his home. He reckoned he could handle watching over these young'uns for the time being. It would only be one weekend after all…_

* * *

><p>A sudden buzzing beside his hip startled the hunter out of his reminiscence and caused him to kick out against the surrounding underbrush.<p>

"Damn it!" he hissed under his breath.

He'd had the forethought to switch his cell phone to vibrate- but now it was lit up like a Christmas Tree and dancing around on the forest floor.

Bobby quickly shut the thing off and turned it face down against the ground. He wasn't sure if the creature below him had heard the faint buzzing noise, but it had definitely sensed all the commotion he'd made rustling against the bushes. He watched with horror as the thing turned his way, an inhuman smile curling up his host's lips, stretching them to a grotesque length until the whole face was split open and the creature's slimy tongue shot upwards, lapping up the night air in triumph.

The hunter instinctively readied his weapon, knowing full well it was useless against this foe. Before he could even take aim he heard the thunderous crashing of something or some-things charging through the forest in his direction. The other three Purgatory Pals must have heard his sudden movement as well and doubled back from the trail.

As the predators closed in around him, the old man made a mental calculation of how many rounds he could get off before he was overtaken. No way was he going down without a fight!

He only prayed that someone would come along to take his place in watching after his boys- 'Cause it sure as Hell looked like his shift was up!

TBC

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><p>Author's Note: Oh noes! Bobby! How will our favorite Uncle get out of this one? Stay tuned! Please let me know what you think of the story so far. Reviews and comments are always appreciated.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

As the old hunter raised his rifle and peered through its scope in what were likely the last moments of his life, he felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. There was wildness in the air, a strong mix of fear and exuberance that came with a chase- something that could only be experienced in untamed woods such as these. He felt a long forgotten stirring in his heart, a thrill that he had known only in his days of hunting natural game instead of supernatural.

And then he saw it- the majestic buck racing through the forest at a frantic pace, its eyes dilated with panic, its huge rack of antlers gleaming in the moonlight. Bobby found himself in such awe of the creature that he barely had time to react as it stampeded right towards him. He rolled away at the last possible moment just as the deer's hooves tore through the thicket, missing his thigh by mere inches.

Seconds later another creature brushed right past Bobby, charging after the buck. This beast was of the two legged variety however- or at least its meat suit was. The hunter instinctively hunkered down in the thick of the bushes, but the Leviathan never noticed him. It chased the buck right into the path of the other Big Mouth standing guard at the bottom of the hill. This Leviathan easily grabbed the fleeing buck by one of its antlers and broke its neck with a slight flick of the wrist. The Purgatory Pals grinned at one another then bared their gaping maws before diving face first into their latest kill.

Bobby had to turn his head from the view. The buck had been a beautiful specimen- a 12- pointer at least. These savage bastards had no respect for the hunt.

"It doesn't taste as good as human," one Leviathan remarked, spitting out a bloody morsel with disgust.

"I like it," the other replied, "It has a fresher, more organic flavor. Not as polluted with toxins as human meat is."

"What do you think you're doing?" a third voice spoke out.

Bobby turned back to see the other two Leviathans surveying the ravaged carcass in revulsion as they returned from their manhunt down the trail.

"It's another source of food…" the venison lover protested.

"Our orders were to finish off Bobby Singer!" the leader of the pack growled, "Not to add a new entrée to the menu! Perhaps if you're so interested in expanding your pallet we can arrange for you to sample the taste of your own entrails!"

The subordinate monster shook his head emphatically, hurrying to wipe the gore from his chin.

"The oldest member of this… Team Free Will as the angel called them has eluded us," the fourth Leviathan reported, "This path leads to a busy highway. We believe he may have gotten into another vehicle there."

The freaky four spoke amongst themselves in a hushed tone that Bobby couldn't decipher except for the words '_won't be pleased'_. And then they were walking away from him down to where the Camaro and his truck were parked. He watched them drive off, taking both vehicles and leaving him stranded. It didn't occur to the old hunter to feel the least bit put out over the theft of his truck and its brand new Claw Radial tires. He honestly hadn't expected to survive long enough to use them again.

He turned back to face his desiccated savior. The life that he had seen shining in the buck's eyes as it charged towards him was long gone now, its head twisted so far back that its mighty antlers impaled the ground behind it. Bobby hadn't noticed the tears welling in his eyes until they were already streaming down his cheeks. Before he realized what he was doing, he removed his cap in reverence to the fallen animal.

"Thank you, Brother," he intoned, even as the younger hunter in him still coveted that trophy rack, "In another time, I can't say I would have spared your life… But you sure saved mine. I'd repay ya if I could."

Shaking himself out of his lamentation he quickly got down to the most pressing matter at hand: Letting the boys know that the enemy was closing in. He groped though the bushes, searching for his phone until his hand came in contact with its shattered remains.

"What the Hell?"

Fighting his way out of the thicket he held his only means of communication up to the moonlight and saw that it had been completely trampled… under hoof. His eyes darted back accusingly to the mangled remains of his buck buddy.

"On second thought, I'd call us even," he huffed sardonically, tossing the useless phone aside, "Now what am I supposed to do? Send smoke signals?"

With no other options coming to him, he snatched up the rest of his belongings and hotfooted it down the five mile trek towards town. He ignored the protest of his legs telling him that a man his age should never move this fast, keeping his focus firmly on his boys. He could only pray that they were still a long distance from whatever remained of his house… or else would notice the smoke before they reached the Salvage Yard and know to turn away.

Fat chance of that! Knowing that pair they'd charge straight into the flames if they thought for a second that he was still in the building.

"Idgits!" he uttered, picking up the pace.

The brothers had always had a knack for stumbling right into danger…

* * *

><p><em>"Dee! Let's go s'ploring!"<em>

_Bobby Singer's house was many things… but Child-Proof wasn't one of them._

_He discovered this fact when the littlest Winchester suddenly broke away from his brother's hand and scampered straight into Bobby's 'secret' den. This was the one room that he kept locked up tight and hidden away from the eyes of any visitors except his most trusted hunter pals. And since in the past couple years he hadn't had any visitors besides trusted hunter pals, he'd stopped being as conscientious about keeping the place locked up._

_That careless habit would have to change he realized with horror as a pair of tiny hands reached for the giant desk he kept cluttered with an array of occult weapons, magickal herbs and cursed objects._

_"NO!" Bobby cried and swept the child up into his arms, carrying him out of the den and locking the door behind him in one fluid motion._

_His heart was threatening to beat itself right out of the front of his overalls while the child in his grasp squirmed and stretched, still straining towards the forbidden room._

_"Uhh! But… Kin I pway wit da toys?" the curious kid asked, "Pwease, pwease, Unca Bobby?"_

_"No! Not toys! Not at all!" the hunter stated breathlessly as he set a now sulking Sammy down, "That room's not fer kids, understand?"_

_"Yes, sir," Dean nodded, gently guiding Sam away even as the younger boy whined and folded his arms in protest._

_"C'mon let's go get some dinner in ya," Bobby said as soon as he could breathe evenly again._

_"Awesome! I'm starving!" Dean exclaimed, "C'mon, Sammy! We're gonna have some real food!"_

_"YAY!" Sam brightened at once, hopping up and down._

_Thankfully, the little guy's attention span was about as short as his curiosity was strong and he and Bobby seemed to be on good terms again as they entered the kitchen._

_"I'm not sure if this counts as real food," Bobby chuckled, retrieving a pack of ground beef from the fridge, "But I've been told I grill up a pretty good burger."_

_"Anything's gotta be better than what we usually get," Dean replied, "Most of the time we just stock up on whatever's at the gas station if we're lucky enough to find one that sells more than gum and cigarettes. We almost never stop and sit down in a restaurant anymore. And when we do, the food's usually pretty gross."_

_Sam wrinkled his nose, nodding in agreement with his brother. Bobby frowned a bit and without a word turned to his pantry to see what vegetables he had in store for a side dish._

_The three of them dined mostly in silence. It was pretty hard to do much talking with your mouth full. Bobby had whipped up a genuine feast of thick savory burgers, fresh cut potato fries, and heaping helpings of peas, green beans and corn. The boys happily washed it all down with chocolate milk once Bobby remembered he had an old can of Hersey's syrup in the pantry._

_As for the hunter himself, he'd eaten pretty light, spending most of the meal quietly observing the youngsters at his table. He'd noted right away that hungry as he claimed to be, Dean had taken the time to carefully cut up all the food on Sam's plate before eating anything himself. But once the older child got going, boy could he eat! Bobby had never seen a kid so skinny put away so much food. Then again, perhaps the little fella hadn't been speaking hyperbole when he'd said he was starving. The way the younger boy attacked the vegetables and emptied his milk cup almost as fast as Bobby could fill it was a sight to behold as well._

_If it was possible, Bobby's assessment of John Winchester had dropped even lower by the time the boys cleaned their plates and asked for seconds. The roadside greasy spoon offerings and convenience store faire that Dean described sounded like the typical diet of your average rambling hunter. But it wasn't anything close to the kind of nourishment a pair of growing boys would need. Sam was still small enough to have to sit with a phone book under his butt just to reach the table while Dean hadn't even lost his first baby tooth yet. _

_What was the durned fool thinking dragging these babies into such a life? It was obvious that not only was John ignoring his sons' nutritional needs, he had the older boy taking on the task of looking after the younger one. The poor kid wasn't old enough to take care of himself, let alone his brother. And now this child was expected to start learning the trade? Hell, it wasn't safe or sane for an adult to enter the world of hunting and Dean hadn't even seen a decade yet._

_Bobby would be the first to admit that he didn't know much about raising up kids right. He'd never even considered becoming a father himself… But John might as well have taken his offspring to the zoo and tossed them straight into the lion's den for all the good he was doing as a parent._

_Shaking his head in disgust, the hunter decided to clear the table and start up the noisy dishwasher before the kids had a chance to hear any unfortunate words against their father spill from his lips. He doubted it would do much good to talk to the man about how he was bringing up his boys. But as long as they were in Bobby's care, he was going to make damned sure they were good n' cared for!_

_"You boys ain't too full for ice cream are ya?"_

_"No sir!" Dean beamed while Sam squealed and clapped his hands._

_"YAY! Unca Bobby!"_

_The hunter smiled, deciding he could get used to that new nickname as he opened the freezer door._

* * *

><p>Sheriff Jodie Mills opened the door looking significantly more alert than she had when Bobby sprang her out of Sioux Falls General and sent her home in a cab.<p>

"Singer!" she gaped, "You're alive!"

Bobby had been charging full speed ahead for the better part of an hour and now that he had finally come to a stop, it felt like every muscle and joint in his body had decided to mutiny against him.

"I'm just as surprised as you," he said breathlessly, nearly collapsing into her arms as she ushered him inside.

"Sit down! Sit down!" she ordered, "Let me get you some water…"

"No time," he panted, "Gotta use yer phone… Call the Winchesters… Those Big Mouths got my house… Burned it down…"

"Oh my God!"

Jodie brought a shaky hand up to her forehead as Bobby grabbed up her cordless and began dialing.

"I was lying here on the couch in here, kinda drifting in and out while listening to my scanner… and there was a report of smoke being spotted around the area where your house is… was…" the sheriff amended, "I… I got up but I didn't hear anything else about it… so I thought I was dreaming until…"

"No, you heard right," Bobby assured her, "That's why I gotta get 'hold of the boys. They were heading there to meet me. They don't yet know…Balls!"

He had tried dialing Dean's cell first but got no answer. Now he was having the same results with Sam. The coil of panic that had been snaking its way through his insides tightened its grip around his heart as Jodie grasped his shoulder and forced his attention back to her.

"No, Bobby listen!" she urged, "I didn't hear anything else until about 10 minutes ago. Then there was emergency unit being dispatched in response to a 911 call- that came from Singer Salvage!"

"What!" the hunter snapped.

"I… I thought it must have been for you," the sheriff admitted, "But now…"

Before she could speak another word the steady white noise that had been emitting from her Police Scanner was interrupted by a new transmission.

"Medic Unit 7, go ahead," a no nonsense female voice came through the speaker.

"Bringing in two males," an equally serious man's voice answered back, "One, early 30's with open compound tibia fracture. One, late 20's, head trauma, signs of increasing cranial pressure."

"Son of a Bitch! That's them…" Bobby gasped, "That's my boys!"

Suddenly the urgent beeping of a cardiac alarm sounded out over the scanner.

"Unit 7. Is that your Head Trauma?" the female voice asked.

"Yeah, he's seizing," the male voice confirmed.

In the background, beneath the cacophony of electronic bells and whistles both hunter and sheriff could hear a distinctively familiar voice calling out.

"Sam! Sammy! Stay with me, you hear!"

"Oh God," Bobby moaned, grabbing onto his shaking knees to keep them from collapsing underneath him, "Oh God, no…"

"I need your estimated arrival time, Unit 7," the far too calm female voice announced.

"Copy that," the male answered, "We're just pulling into Sioux Falls."

Bobby and Jodie exchanged a knowing look of horror.

"Wait, Sioux Falls?" Dean's panicked voice came through the speaker, "Sioux Falls General? No, no, you gotta take us somewhere else! Please! Anywhere…"

The frantic call ended abruptly followed by the steady hiss of white noise. Bobby straightened himself up and marched towards the door.

"Bobby!" the sheriff cried out, "Bobby, wait!"

"Can't," the old hunter insisted, "My boys need me!"

God forgive him, but he had to curse the name of John Winchester yet again for ever bringing these kids into the life. Sam and Dean had been tossed straight into the lion's den once more.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh Noes! The Boys!<p>

Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or put this story on alert. It really kept me motivated though these tough couple weeks. You guys ROCK!

As usual, any feedback, reviews or comments are deeply appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I don't own and didn't create these characters. Though I wish I owned Sheriff Mills. She rocks!

WARNINGS: Mild cussing, spoilers for "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid", and nekkid Bobby. (Fear not, it's tastefully done)

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

"Hold it right there, Singer!"

Bobby was so fixated on getting to his boys that he barely noticed the law enforcer struggling to hold him back until she cried out in pain. He whipped around to find Jodie nearly doubled over, pressing a hand against her right side where her appendix used to be. Keeping her other hand firmly gripped around the hunter's arm she lifted her ashen face to glare up at him.

"You are not charging head first into a suicide mission," she insisted through gritted teeth, "Not on my watch!"

"Stand down, Officer!" Bobby growled, "Didn't you hear where they're taking my boys?"

"Yeah," Jodie said, letting out a long breath as she managed to straighten herself back up, "To the closest hospital with the best trauma care in the area. And considering their injuries, that's exactly where they need to be."

Bobby stared at the sheriff as if she'd grown a second head. Which, given the current circumstances, wouldn't be that much of a shock.

"Woman, are you insane?" he gaped, "That place is crawling with those slime oozing gut munchers! Sam and Dean will be completely at their mercy!"

"Not while they're in the Emergency Room," Jodie reasoned, "Bobby, calm down for just a second and listen to me! Those Big Mouths are trying to keep a low profile or else they would have turned the whole hospital into an All You Can Eat Buffet by now. The ER is too busy, too populated. They're not going to risk exposure by attacking the Winchesters in there. That buys us some time."

Bobby considered this a moment, but then gruffly shook his head.

"No. I can't chance it. I have to get those boys out of there now!"

"How?" she asked in exasperation, "Dean's got a broken bone sticking out of his leg and Sam took a knock to the head hard enough to cause swelling in his skull! That's serious, Singer! That's slip into a coma and never wake up again serious!"

Seeing the stricken expression on the older man's face, the sheriff quickly softened her tone.

"Though not necessarily in every case," she amended, "But my point is getting them out isn't going to be a cake walk. We need to come up with a plan of action. For Pete's sake, Bobby. You don't even have a car!"

The sheriff stood her ground while Bobby huffed and stammered pacing back and forth near the exit, rubbing at his beard and tugging his hat off and on again in helpless agitation.

"Don't make me tackle you to the floor," Jodie casually warned, "I'm in a lot of pain and that just makes me fight meaner."

"Fine," Bobby said, throwing his hands up in surrender, "I get your point. Now what's your plan?"

"Well, what do you usually do in a situation like this?"

The hunter took his duffle bag off his shoulder and fished around inside until he found his stash of fake I.D.'s.

"Flash one of these around," he informed her, "How does 'Department of Health and Human Services' sound to you?"

"Highly illegal," she sighed, "But if you really must commit a Federal Offense in my jurisdiction, you're at least going to be clean and presentable while doing it. I don't know many Health Administrators who walk around looking like they just crawled out of the Mud Pit at Woodstock '99."

"Woodstock '69, thank you very much!" Bobby grumbled following the woman towards the bathroom.

"There's fresh towels and wash cloths in the cabinet next to the sink," she pointed out, "That takes care of 'clean'. As for presentable…"

She paused for a moment, biting at her lip. Without another word she crossed the hall to her bedroom and stood before the closet. Bobby watched as she opened the doors and took her time examining the wardrobe inside. He was about to holler at her to hurry the Hell up when at last she retrieved a nicely tailored charcoal grey suit.

Jodie held the garment up reverently, carefully running her hand over the fabric to smooth out any wrinkles. She brought the suit up to her face and inhaled deeply at the collar before returning to her houseguest. There were tears decorating the corners of her eyes as she handed the change of clothes to Bobby.

"This was Sean's best suit," she said clearing her throat, "It should fit you. Uhh… I'll go make some calls and get the 411 on the Winchesters while you wash up… And don't forget to use soap!"

"Yes, m'am," the hunter muttered, as the woman shut the door behind her.

He gently hung up the borrowed suit, feeling ashamed for his initial impatience. He knew as well as anyone how hard it could be to let go of such things. It hadn't yet been two years since the dead had risen in this small town. Jodie had witnessed her husband being devoured before her very eyes- by her own zombie son no less. His own wife Karen had returned from the grave and he was faced with the awful task of having to put her down again.

Shaking himself out of the painful memories, he quickly peeled off his ruined clothing and hit the shower. As the water washed over him, clearing his mind as well as his body, he visualized the layout of Sioux Falls General. He concentrated on all the hallways and exits trying to determine the fastest way to get the wounded brothers to safety without being detected.

Sheriff Mills was right. It wasn't going to be a cake walk. But he had to do this. He absolutely could not lose his boys. Not when he'd lost so much already…

* * *

><p><em>After dessert and a belching contest which Dean impressively won, Bobby noted the time and decided he was more than ready to start getting the Winchesters settled down for the night.<em>

"_All right now, I gotta go fix up the guest room," he informed the children as he led them to the couch and turned on the TV, "I want you boys to sit right here and stay right here! Don't rough house, don't touch anything, and don't go 's'ploring'!"_

_He pointed at Sam who pulled one Hell of a Baby Bitchface and plunged his thumb into his mouth._

"_Yes, sir!"_

_Dean gave the hunter a reassuring wink so Bobby felt safe in leaving the pair alone for a spell. He rechecked the lock on the den as he passed by it though. Just in case. He then heaved a deep sigh as he approached the guest room- another door which he kept locked up tight, but for a very different reason. _

_This space had doubled as Karen's sewing room. It was still heavily scented with that fresh cedar smell that would always linger on every shirt or pair of pants she ever mended for him- and in her hair whenever she'd spend an afternoon knitting or quilting. Bobby was never sure if it was the smell or the sight of all the unfinished projects scattered about that got to him more, and so he hardly ever set foot in the room._

_Now though, he needed to unfold the rollaway mattress and get it ready for one of the boys to use for the weekend while the other boy could sleep on the couch. As he rolled the bed away from the wall he noticed something soft and light shake loose from the spring frame and tumble to the floor. When he bent to pick it up he felt a sickening pain twist its way into his heart._

_It was Karen's final masterpiece- a baby quilt she had been putting the finishing touches on just days before her death. He'd seen her working on the thing for months, all the while stupidly assuming she was making it for a friend or maybe the Church Bazaar. That terrible night they'd had their 'big talk' in which he told her he had no intentions of ever becoming a father, he supposed she'd tossed the quilt aside, unfinished, along with her dreams._

_Unconsciously, he brought the never used blanket to his nostrils, trying hard to hold back the tears as he inhaled that warm lovely scent that had been hers._

_He'd been such a fool not to give that woman any children. No matter how screwed up he was, she would have been more than capable of looking after a kid or two- or twelve. If only he had just… Well, there was no sense in dwelling on what could have been and what would never be, he reckoned. Not when he had someone else's children waiting for him in the living room…_

* * *

><p>"What in the name of Jim Beam do you think you're doing?" Bobby exclaimed, unable to comprehend the sight that was waiting for him in the living room.<p>

Sheriff Mills was standing before him in full uniform, hissing in pain as she eased her gun belt around the mound of gauze covering her sutures.

"I'm going with you," she said simply.

"The Hell you are!" Bobby barked, "You shouldn't even be vertical right now!"

"What can I tell you," she shrugged, "I was never much of a rest and relaxation kind of gal. Why do you think I went into law enforcement in the first place?"

"Woman, I already have to figure out how to carry two grown men with multiple injuries out of Monster Central. I cannot be looking after your ass… err… assets as well!"

"I can look after myself thank you very much," Jodie informed him, idly straightening his tie and smoothing out the lapels of his suit, "Besides, I already called in some backup."

"Back up? What back up?" the hunter scoffed, "Besides you there ain't but three deputies in this Podunk town. You can't tell me you got any State Troopers to believe your tale about doctors chowing down on their patients!"

"I'm the Sheriff, Singer," the woman smiled, donning her hat, "You think I can't round up a posse? Now come on, let's go save your boys!"

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hang on, Boys! Uncle Bobby's coming! The Rescue will be next chapter! YAY!<p>

As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated!

P.S. To the anonymous poster "Jem" who reviewed a couple weeks back... Are you Supernatural Jem from Tegaki? If so SQUEEE! I know you! If not... well SQUEEE! anyway. Thanks for the review! :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings: Mild cussing and half nekkid Dean. (Do I really have to apologize for that?)

Spoilers for "Girl Next Door". In fact, a big chunk of this is 'borrowed' directly from the episode. I just put my own spin on it. But any dialogue you read that sounds familiar came from the Show and not from my brain. The rest... is Mine! All Mine! MA HA HA!

Disclaimer: I didn't create and don't own these characters... Not even half nekkid Dean *pout*

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 4<p>

Dawn was just breaking over the horizon when Bobby and Jodie arrived at Sioux Falls General. Bobby had insisted on driving as it had barely been 48 hours since Jodie's surgery and she technically wasn't even supposed to be out of bed, never mind operating a vehicle. The Sheriff had balked at first at the idea of allowing a civilian to take command of her car. But she finally relinquished the keys once the hunter reminded her of how many violations she had already overlooked just in joining him on this mission.

While Bobby pulled around to the rear of the Emergency Entrance where there was a parking space allotted for the Sheriff's Car, Jodie quickly put in another call to check on the Winchester brothers' status.

"Copy that. Thank you," she spoke to her informant before turning to address Bobby, "They were checked in under the names Angus and Malcolm Young. Dean… err… Angus has been moved to a Recovery Room on the Ground Floor."

"What about Sam?" Bobby asked, bracing himself for the worst.

"He was treated with meds to reduce the swelling around his brain then heavily sedated to control the seizures," she told him, trying to sound reassuring, "His condition was listed as serious but stable, but there hasn't been an update since he was moved from the ER."

"Where'd they take him to?" the hunter asked. It would sure make his job a whole lot easier if both brothers happened to be in the Recovery Ward together.

"The nurse didn't know," Jodie sighed.

"Didn't know?" Bobby snapped, "What does that mean, 'didn't know'? Ain't it her job to know? How exactly does someone lose track of a 6'4" behemoth like Sam?"

"Calm down," the sheriff commanded, "That most likely means he's having tests done or else he's in transit."

"Or he could be getting wheeled into the Leviathans' Cafeteria on a serving tray as we sit here!" Bobby cried, whipping off his seat belt and starting to leap out of the car.

Jodie clamped a hand over the hunter's shoulder, stilling him as best she could.

"My best deputy has a description of the Freak Face formerly known as Dr. Gaines and I've got people patrolling the halls to keep an eye on things. If anything fishy was going down someone would have called me by now. Trust me. The Winchesters are safe."

"For now," the hunter sassed, "And what just kind of people did you bring in? S.W.A.T. team? Navy Seals?"

"Neighborhood Watch," Jodie sassed back, easing her way out of the passenger side.

Bobby scowled as he exited the cop car. He didn't share Jodie's confidence that the Leviathans wouldn't attack everyone out in the open. Nor did he think this 'backup' she'd called in would stand a chance against the things if the shit hit the fan. And on top of it all, he had no idea how the hell he was going to get his boys out of this mess when one could barely walk and the other wasn't even conscious.

Anxiously rubbing a hand over his thinning hair where his trusty cap usually was, he hurried to catch up to the sheriff then fell into an easy stride beside her. As he scanned the perimeter, contemplating the best plan of action, his eyes locked onto the rows of unoccupied Emergency Vehicles stationed at the Ambulance Dock.

"How hard d'ya reckon it'd be to hotwire one of those things?" he wondered aloud.

"I didn't even hear that," the sheriff shook her head, then clinched her fists as the hunter made a beeline for the nearest vehicle, "Bobby Singer, you are NOT stealing an ambulance!"

"You got a better idea how I can transport two wounded soldiers out of Monster M.A.S.H.?" he asked as he extracted his lock picks from his duffle bag, "Cover me, would ya?"

Sheriff Mills pursed her lips but did her best to shield the hunter's activities from any passersby.

"How I've managed to keep my badge since hooking up with you!" she spoke through gritted teeth.

"Hey, c'mon now," the older man said casually as he popped the lock open, "I make your job fun!"

"Yeah, well the fun ends here, Bucko," she warned, "I'll get you into the hospital, but after that you're on your own. If you get caught operating an ambulance without a license, I will disavow any knowledge of your actions."

"Understood." Bobby shrugged.

He tossed his duffle bag into the purloined ambulance then walked casually towards the Emergency Entrance. His heart was pounding in his ears, but he put on his best "Official" face when he and Jodie passed by the Admissions Desk. The nurse behind the glass allowed them to stroll right through to the Recovery Ward with barely a glance. Bobby had to hand it to the sheriff for calming him down earlier and convincing him to suit up. Badges and laminated I.D.'s always got you a lot farther than trucker caps and hiking boots.

"There," Jodie spoke in a hushed tone as she nodded to the room at the end of the hallway, "Room 124. That's where Dean is."

Bobby followed her gaze until he spotted the name "A. Young" penciled in on a dry erase board beside the door. He quickened his pace but turned back as Jodie remained behind.

"This is where I get off, Singer," she said with a sly smile, "I'm trusting you can take it from here."

"Me an' the boys are gonna have to go deep underground 'til they heal up and we figure out how to stop these ugly critters," Bobby stated, "I probably won't see ya again for a long time, Sheriff."

"Like I can't track you down," she snorted under her breath then spun on her heel to mosey back down the hall.

He kept his eye on the woman as he stepped into the Recovery Room, watching her until she had rounded the corner. He wasn't at all prepared for the sight that awaited him once he turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

* * *

><p>Dean was lying sprawled on the floor, one leg wrapped in a plaster cast from toe to thigh, the other leg bent at an awkward angle which gave Bobby quite a gander up the younger man's hospital gown.<p>

"You okay?" he questioned, quickly scanning the boy for any injuries beyond the obvious.

Dean studied him blearily through glazed over green eyes.

"Bobby. You're alive…" he said with awe.

"'Course I am," the hunter announced gruffly, knowing there was no time to describe his ordeal, "Why are you on the floor?"

"They gave me morphine," Dean said by way of explanation, "A lot!"

The old hunter shook his head as he bent down to help his doped up friend off the floor. As if things weren't already complicated enough. He needed Dean to have his wits about him if they were to stand a chance at all.

"Hey look! A monster broke my leg!" the injured man slurred, sounding all of 5 years old.

Bobby managed to get Dean back onto the hospital bed and held onto him until he was certain the young man was capable of sitting up on his own. Dean blinked and shook his head, trying to regain his focus while Bobby studied him intently fearing he might black out at any moment.

"W… Wait…The house," Dean stammered when he finally managed to latch onto a coherent thought, "We thought you were dead!"

Bobby had figured as much. If these idgits hadn't been so worried about finding him, they wouldn't have gotten beat up so bad in the first place. But this was no time to dwell on how much they were all willing to sacrifice for each other or get all mushy about it.

"Well I ain't, not yet," he stated simply as he turned to pull the window blinds closed, "But we gotta run. This place ain't safe!"

He snatched the pile of folded clothes off the dresser and pressed them into Dean's lap as the boy swayed, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby asked, hoping to God Dean would know and actually remember.

"Uhh…" Dean mumbled, searching back through the fog in his mind, "Head Scan I think."

That would do. Bobby at least had a place to start looking. He'd figure out an excuse to have the tests halted and the sedated patient placed into his custody on his way to Radiology. And since Dean had the advantage of being at least semi-conscious, he'd have to make it out on his own.

"You meet me at the Ambulance Dock, stat," he told the young hunter, "I'll find Sam."

He hurried towards the door only to be stopped by Dean's plaintive call out to him.

"Wait where? Bobby! I'm a gimp!"

Balls! In his haste he'd forgotten that Dean was down a leg. And hopping to the Ambulance Dock was out of the question. Just as he was pondering where he could find a stray wheelchair, his eyes fell on a pair of crutches leaning against the wall.

As he rushed them over to the lame and confused young man, a wave of emotion swelled up in him despite his efforts to hold off on any sentimentality.

"Hey," he whispered, smiling at his longtime friend.

He patted the boy's cheek affectionately, thankful to have found him alive and for the time being safe. That happy state wouldn't last long for any of them if they didn't vacate the premises pronto. And so without another word he left the elder Winchester to his own devices and went off in search of the younger brother.

* * *

><p>Dean wasn't completely certain that he hadn't just dreamed of Bobby coming into his room and telling him to head for the Ambulance Dock. But he knew he didn't want to stick around in this place any longer waiting to be eaten by some cannibal candy striper. And he definitely wasn't going to spend another moment in this thin drafty baby doll dress that barely covered his unmentionables.<p>

He reached around as best he could to try and untie the strings holding the garment together. When he found the knots too tight to manage, he tried pulling the thing up over his head. He only succeeded in pinning his elbows to his ears, his head and face completely covered by the cloth as the rest of him was exposed for the world to see.

"Bommy…" he let out a muffled and pitiful cry, knowing full well the hunter was long gone by now.

Great. Trapped in a hospital swarming with man-eating monsters and he'd just wrapped himself up like a burrito for them. Heaving a huge sigh he began his struggles anew.

* * *

><p>Bobby followed the signs along the corridors desperately searching for one that would lead him to Radiology. He didn't dare stop a staff member to ask for directions. There was no way of telling who was real and who was Memorex in this place. He was about to hit the elevators and try another floor when an orderly came around the corner pushing a patient on a gurney… An instantly recognizable shaggy haired patient whose oversized frame barely fit on the gurney. It was all Bobby could do not to kick up his heels and hoot for joy at the sight.<p>

Maintaining his composure he quickly flashed a badge at the orderly.

"Hold the phone there, Son. Who's this," he asked authoritatively.

He grabbed the patient's chart pretending to skim for identification. It wasn't the name he cared about (he already knew the man laid out before him wasn't 'Malcolm Young') but the diagnosis. His eyes caught the words 'Stable', 'Vitals Good', 'No Fractures' and that was all he needed to know for now.

"Yeah, this is the guy," he told the orderly, "Coverage lapsed. We're shipping him to County."

"Ok," the orderly muttered, probably just glad not to have to push the giant man's heavy form any further.

Bobby gladly took up the burden, wheeling Sam back in the opposite direction and now searching for the quickest route to the Ambulance Dock.

"C'mon, Sicko. Let's get you healed up some place a little safer," he uttered, knowing full well the boy wasn't even aware of his presence.

* * *

><p>Dean barely remembered getting himself dressed. But now he found himself up right and somehow managing to propel himself forward on the crutches. He got the door opened awkwardly and peeked around to make sure the coast was clear. Why he bothered with this precaution he had no idea. There was no such thing as 'clear' to him right now. Figures blurred in his vision 'til he could no longer tell man from woman, monster from human, coat rack from potted plant.<p>

He shook his head as much as he could while still maintaining his precarious balance then trudged onward. He could only hope that something resembling an Ambulance Dock would appear in his line of sight before either a Leviathan or unconsciousness managed to overtake him.

* * *

><p>Bobby made it to the exit without being spotted or stopped. The fresh air and sunlight invigorated him as he quickly wheeled his injured charge towards the ambulance he'd laid claim to earlier. Opening the back of the vehicle he pushed the sleeping giant inside and made sure he was secure before slamming the doors shut and dashing towards the front. Bending down beneath the dashboard he began the task of hotwiring the engine.<p>

He hoped by now Dean had managed to get up and dressed and on his way. Once he got this baby started, he didn't want to leave Sam alone and vulnerable while he went back to fetch the other Winchester.

The ambulance started with a healthy roar at last. Bobby sat up straight to watch the Emergency Exit door in his side view mirror, waiting to see it burst open and Dean to come hobbling through.

"Come on, Dean," he urged through gritted teeth.

As if on cue, the door he was watching flew open. But to his horror, it was not Dean who came through. Dr. Teeth and Nurse Hatchet had obviously been alerted to their presence and now had spotted the getaway ambulance.

"Balls!" the hunter cursed. Where the Hell was Dean?

* * *

><p>Dean felt as if he'd been ambling around the hospital for hours. Every blurry hallway looked the same to him. Every blurry face had the potential to snap back and expose a mouth full of blurry teeth. To make matters worse, his leg was on fire. At least the pain let him know that he wasn't hallucinating and that Bobby was out there somewhere waiting for him.<p>

At last he saw a blurry door up ahead with a blurry figure beside it that seemed to be beckoning him forward. This could be a trap he supposed. That could be a Leviathan luring him into the kitchen. But it wasn't like he could flee at this point anyway and so he continued onward.

Fresh air and bright sunlight greeted him as the blurry figure opened the door and waved him outside. Now he felt sure he was hallucinating after all. As he passed by, he could have sworn the blurry figure aiding him was the town drunk, Digger Wells.

* * *

><p>Bobby watched helplessly as the scrub wearing Leviathans trotted towards the ambulance.<p>

"Come on, Dean!" he begged, unable to contemplate the possibility of having to leave one boy behind in order to save the other, "Come on, Dean!"

As the Leviathans drew closer, almost within reach of the ambulance's backside where Sam lay defenseless, Bobby reluctantly moved his hand to the gearshift and eased his foot towards the gas.

At that instant, the passenger door flew open, startling him until he saw Dean toss his crutches to the ground and haul himself inside.

"Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! GO!" Dean demanded, staring back at the now charging Leviathans.

Bobby didn't need to be told twice, let alone six times. He put the ambulance in gear and peeled out of the parking lot heading towards the highway. He knew from experience that the Big Mouths couldn't keep up on foot- but that didn't mean they couldn't give chase in an ambulance of their own or even Sheriff Mills' cop car!

* * *

><p>Dr. Gaines wasn't considering grand theft auto at the moment. His only thoughts were of how angry his superiors would be once he let them know the Winchesters and their hairy companion had eluded them once more. He grabbed his cell phone and pressed speed dial. Edgar would be the most sympathetic of all the bosses, but even he had his limits.<p>

Unable get a hold of the former mechanic, he hung up and motioned for his underling to follow him back inside. Perhaps if the Hospital Team put their meatsuits' heads together, they could come up with a plan of action that would avoid having to contact the superiors at all.

Upon reentering the building the gruesome twosome were greeted by a most startling sight.

Sheriff Jodie Mills, whom Dr. Gaines recognized as a former patient of his vessel's and obvious snitch to his present activities, was standing before him in full uniform and flanked by a pair of similarly outfitted gentlemen. Behind them were half a dozen civilians, all focusing their full attention on the former doctor and nurse and all scowling with utter contempt.

"Dr. Gaines," the sheriff spoke calmly, "Your license to practice medicine in this hospital, or any in the Sioux Falls region is hereby revoked. These fine citizens know what you are and what you've been up to. And we're not the only ones. There are plenty of others ready and willing to raise the alarm should any harm befall us or another patient in this hospital. I suggest you round up any more of your… 'friends' and vacate the premises immediately."

The former doctor eyed the crowd before him and realized they were serious. He also realized he was in deep, deep trouble with his superiors.

* * *

><p>Sheriff Mills watched as the monsters tucked tail and fled. It hadn't been hard for her to find several men and women willing to back her against these beasts. Not two years ago, they had all been witness to the Great Zombie Uprising of Sioux Falls. And they all owed Bobby Singer and the Winchester Brothers a great debt of gratitude for saving them and most of their loved ones from being devoured when the dead arose. None of them were about to tolerate another monstrous menace in their peaceful town. Jodie Mills most of all.<p>

Never again would anyone get eaten in her jurisdiction. Not on her watch.

* * *

><p>As soon as they made it onto the highway, Bobby switched on the siren to keep the traffic at bay and allow them quicker passage away from Monster Central. He cast a concerned glance at Dean who hadn't stopped twisting around in his seat and obsessively looking behind them since they took off several minutes ago.<p>

"Did we lost 'em? Did we lost 'em" he slurred repeatedly.

"You can relax now," Bobby assured him, "We lost 'em."

Dean only managed to settle down for a moment before panic overtook him again.

"Sammy! Did you get Sammy?"

"Yes," Bobby said, "He's in the back."

"Sammy? SAMMY!" Dean called out desperately.

"Would you put a lid on it," the hunter groused, "I'm trying to drive here! And Sam ain't gonna answer back. He's more doped up than you if you can believe that. Don't worry. I'm gonna check him over as soon as we get to a decent pit stop."

Dean pouted slightly, then turned around and sat properly in his seat at last. Bobby spared another glance at the young man to see his eyes were beginning to droop as the adrenaline wore off and the morphine took its hold once more. The older man was about to tell his passenger that he should go ahead and get some rest, but young man spoke first.

"Ubba, cobbin huffer muff…" Dean declared… as best as Bobby could make out.

He then let out a long exhausted groan and slid sideways, slumping against Bobby's shoulder.

"This ain't no time to get romantic, idgit," he told the slumbering man.

But he made no move to push the kid upright and into his own seat. There was an odd comfort in having the extra weight pressing against him. He had his boys back at last.

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so now the boys are safe and it's smooth sailing from here on out right?... Not hardly MA HA HA HA! More hurtsick boys on the way I'm afraid.

Please let me know what you think. Reviews and Feedback are greatly appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

Warnings: Mild cussing. Very sick/hurt boys.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own and didn't create these characters.

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 5<p>

It was several hours before Bobby felt safe enough to even consider making a pit stop. At this point it wasn't just the Leviathans he had to worry about. He had no idea if the vehicle he was currently operating had been reported as stolen. Even if it hadn't, there was still a good chance any law enforcers or overly curious citizens might become suspicious as to why an ambulance from Sioux Falls was so far away from its home base.

He'd been heading west down I-90 without a clear plan until he reached Spearfish. There he knew of a secluded woody area that was hunting grounds for a reclusive family of Oglala Sioux who wouldn't give a rat's ass about a stolen ambulance or what the white folks inside it were up to. They could spend the night hidden here and figure out their next move in the morning… Well, he and Dean could at least. Bobby doubted Sam would be doing much communicating any time soon. The boy hadn't stirred or made a sound since their escape.

At the moment, Dean was also completely zonked out, his breath fogging up the passenger side window. Bobby decided it was best to let the young man be for now. There wasn't much he could do to help out anyway with his leg mummified as it was. The older man gave the slumbering hunter's shoulder a tight squeeze as he made his way towards the back of the ambulance.

"Gotta go check on your brother," he said softly.

The younger Winchester was just as Bobby had left him- Out cold and motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his broad chest. The old hunter took the kid's lax face in his hands and gently slapped at his cheeks.

"Sam!" he spoke sternly, "Sam, can you hear me? Nap time's over, son. I need ya to wake up now!"

He sighed when he got no response, not even an eye twitch.

"Fine," he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice, "Don't know why I was expecting anything but pigheadedness from a Winchester!"

He brushed the boy's hair back from his forehead, not liking the warmth he felt there or the sheen of sweat he saw trickling down from his temples. The kid looked too pale, too worn out, too… unreachable.

Settling onto the bench beside Sam's gurney, Bobby grabbed up the young man's chart to take a closer look at what the crack medical team down at Sioux Falls General had to say about his current condition.

The MRI results were encouraging at least: Severely concussed, but no skull fractures or obvious tissue damage to the brain. Bleeding and seizures were under control for the time being. The plan had been to set him up in the ICU and monitor his vitals until he showed signs of waking.

Bobby tossed the chart to the side and wearily ran a hand down his beard. The problem with the 'professional' assessment of the situation was that Sam was suffering from a lot more damage than would ever show up on any fancy X-Ray Machine. Ever since Castiel had sent his angelic wrecking ball to wreak havoc inside Sam's psyche, the poor kid had been having an extremely difficult time telling reality from Hell-O-Vision.

The last time Bobby had spoken face to face with Sam, the younger man still wasn't completely convinced he wasn't being Punk'd by Lucifer and only imagining being back on Earth. Bobby and Dean had done their best to convince the kid that they weren't just illusions conjured up by the Devil. But now with this head injury to complicate matters, who knew if they would ever be able to unscramble the boy's eggs again.

The old hunter quickly shook himself out of that train of thought. He'd never given up on Sam yet and he wasn't about to start now. Standing up, he set to gathering all the supplies and equipment he'd need to help get the boy through this latest setback.

First thing to do was get some oxygen, fluids and antibodies pumping though that oversized body of Sam's. Bobby found everything he needed easily enough with all the handy labels decorating the ambulance compartments and soon had his patient fixed up with a nasal cannula, heart monitor and I.V. drip.

"I'm getting to be an old pro at this," he told the unconscious man at his side as he finished taping the I.V. needle to his wrist, "Not sure why you keep insisting on being my guinea pig, but you've been giving me plenty of practice lately. Feel free to knock it off anytime now, Ya hear me kiddo?"

If Sam heard, he gave no indication, so the older man eased himself back up on creaky knees and went exploring through the cabinets and drawers again. He found a Temporal Thermometer which he swiped across the kid's forehead, being careful not to disturb the patch of gauze taped over his left brow. The instant readout showed a temperature of 101.3. Not great. Still, the bigger issue had to be the angry purple goose egg peeking out through the bandage on the side of Sam's head.

Bobby opened up an instant ice pack which he activated by shaking before laying it across his patient's forehead. He hoped the sudden cold would shock the boy awake or at least get some reaction out of him- but was rewarded with a big bunch of nothing. Typical Sam Winchester stubbornness.

"Don't know why you keep pulling this Sleeping Beauty act on me an' yer brother," the hunter spoke casually as he held the ice pack in place, "Handsome and princely as we are, I hope you realize by now neither one of us are ever gonna kiss you! Hell, especially not since you used to give us such a hard time about going to sleep in the first place..."

* * *

><p><em>David Hasselhoff was carrying on a tense conversation with his car when Bobby returned to check on the boys. Dean had his arm slung casually yet protectively around his brother, fully engaged in the show and openly snickering over the dialogue that was meant to be serious. Sam was snuggled up against the older boy's chest, brow furrowed as he tried to follow along with the story and fight off the sleepiness that was threatening to overtake him.<em>

"_Dee, how come da 'Pala no talks ta Daddy?" Sam asked, speaking around his thumb._

"'_Cause Dad's so awesome he doesn't need a car to tell him what to do," Dean retorted._

"_Oh…" was all the younger boy had to say back as his eyes began to droop and his head nodded forward._

_Bobby sighed as he looked down upon the pair. He and Dean obviously had very different ideas about how 'awesome' John Winchester was. But he held his tongue and waited until a commercial break before stepping forward and letting his presence be known._

"_Uncle Bobby. When's Dad coming back?" Dean asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but unable to hide the apprehension that crossed his small features._

"_Umm, day or two, I reckon," the hunter shrugged, before lightly poking Sam on the shoulder, "Looks like it's bedtime for Bonzo here."_

_At the word 'bedtime' the sleepy child instantly snapped to life._

"_Noooo!" he whined, squirming out from under his brother's arm. "No bedtime!"_

_He scooted off the couch and made a break for it, charging towards the kitchen. Startled by the outburst Bobby quickly rounded the couch and stepped in front of the boy, blocking his path. The kid spun around and headed in the opposite direction only to find his brother had joined in the game and hopped off the couch to block him again. Keening with fury, the child retreated to the couch, burrowing beneath the cushions as if he could somehow tunnel his way to freedom. He managed to get his head and torso fairly well hidden, but not his bottom._

_Bobby blinked in utter confusion, completely caught off guard by the kid's reaction and the tiny hiney that now poked out at him. He turned towards the older boy who only offered him a knowing smirk by way of explanation._

"_Sammy hates bedtime," he stated the obvious, "Ya kinda just have to wait for him to fall asleep on his own, then put him to bed."_

"_Thanks for the advanced warning," Bobby grumbled._

_The hunter was at a loss. The kid had to be exhausted after his drive from Blue Earth and all the excitement of the evening. He needed to get some rest without all this nonsense and foolin' around. Still Bobby couldn't bring himself to holler or use force against the boy. That's how his old man would have handled things. Fear of becoming like his old man was what kept him from wanting children in the first place. But what other option did he have?_

_As if in answer to his question or maybe even his prayer, a voice that sounded a lot like Karen's chided him:_

"_Well Bobby Singer. If you don't want to force the boy into bed, what do you want to do?"_

"_Well Kiddo," Bobby addressed the little butt pointed his way, "If you don't want to go to bed, what do you want to do?"_

"_Wanna watch da talkin' car!" came the muffled reply._

"_Ok," Bobby said reasonably, "But how about you get into your jammies while you watch the talkin' car? That wouldn't be so bad would it?"_

_There was no answer from beneath the cushions at first. And then they shifted and a pair of very suspicious blue green eyes peeped out._

"_No bedtime?" the boy asked._

"_Not til yer ready to go to sleep," the hunter agreed._

_With much struggle and wiggling, Sam managed to extract himself from his hiding place then sat on the couch, looking up expectantly. Bobby nodded towards the duffle bag John had left with him, wordlessly commanding Dean to go fetch it. The older boy did so immediately, then took out an adult sized shirt and kid sized pajama bottoms before kneeling down to untie his brother's shoes._

"_I think I can handle it from here on out," Bobby said, nudging Dean back towards his seat, "Why don't you just sit back an' watch yer show."_

_Both Winchester boys stared up at the hunter baffled. Bobby had no doubt it was always Dean's task to get his brother ready for bed. But they were in his house now and he was the caretaker around here. Almost reluctantly, the older boy climbed back onto the couch and watched as David Hasselhoff and KITT managed to escape the peril they had faced before the last commercial break. Sam put his thumb back in his mouth as he studied the hunter's actions curiously._

_Bobby got the kid's shoes off easily enough and then his shirt._

"_How 'bout you lay down against that big pillow there," he suggested mildly, "Might make it easier for me to get yer pants off."_

_Sam nodded sleepily and obeyed, struggling to keep his attention on the TV as man dealt with all the buttons and zippers on his jeans. Dean no longer seemed very interested in the antics of David Hasselhoff's talking car as he kept casting a watchful eye over his little brother. _

_After getting the kid stripped down to his Underoos, Bobby propped him up and got his thumb away from his mouth long enough to pull the oversized shirt over his head. It was a raggedy old Led Zeppelin Tee with four faded sigils, obviously a castoff of John's. It fit Sammy like a night gown, almost reaching his ankles. Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, especially when the boy who hated bedtime so much yawned and reached under his unruly bangs to rub a chubby hand against his eyes._

_By the time Bobby managed to pull the pajama bottoms up over the child's hips, the inevitable happened and Sam flopped face first against the hunter's shoulder, snoring like a rusty chainsaw._

"_And that's all she wrote," Bobby spoke quietly, before turning to address Dean, "I'm gonna get your brother all settled in the guest room. But you can stay here and finish watching your show. I'll bring you some blankets whenever you're ready to go to sleep."_

_Bobby carried the deeply slumbering boy into Karen's room and hastily got him tucked into bed before the cedar scented memories had a chance to overwhelm him again. Sensing a presence behind him suddenly, he turned to find a freckled face with big anxious green eyes watching him intently from the doorway._

"_You all right, son?" Bobby asked, surprising himself with the word that slipped out of his mouth, "Uhh… 'Knight Rider' over already?"_

"_Sammy doesn't like to sleep all by himself," Dean stated emphatically, "I should stay in here tonight."_

_And with that the older boy rushed forward and dove under the covers with his brother before Bobby had a chance to point out that Sam was already down for the count._

"_He needs me here with him," the child insisted, looking up from the pillow with the same stubborn, defiant glare Bobby had seen so many times on John Winchester's face._

_The hunter raised an eyebrow in bemusement, but then shrugged and readjusted the blankets to fit both boys. _

"'_Nite, Uncle Bobby," Dean yawned, snuggling against Sam as if he were a living, breathing, snoring teddy bear._

"'_Nite, boys. I'll be right out here if you need anything," the hunter promised._

_He turned to hit the lights and leave. But then as an afterthought, stepped back into the room and gathered up his wife's baby quilt. He covered the Winchesters with it, smiling as they both sighed contentedly under the added warmth. These youngsters needed any extra comfort they could get and Karen would want her handiwork to finally have a use. He studied his sleeping charges for a long while before finally turning away and cutting off the light._

* * *

><p>Bobby tucked the heavy hospital blanket around Sam, being careful of all the tubes and wires attached to the injured man's body.<p>

"Sleep well, if that's what you gotta do now, kid," he sighed, placing his hand against Sam's pale cheek, "But anytime you get a notion to wake up, I'll be right here."

The hunter then yawned deeply as the past few days' drama caught up to him. It had been at least 36 odd hours since he had actually slept. Rubbing the weariness out of his eyes he searched for another pair of blankets which he carried with him to the front of the ambulance.

"Dean," he said gently, giving the sleeping man's arm a shake, "Sam's about the same. Nothing more we can do for him right now. I say we park here and get some shut eye, then come up with a plan in the morning. Do you need water or pain meds or… err… help with any… bodily… issues?"

Instead of balking as Bobby had expected, the younger man didn't answer, but remained curled to the side with his head pressed against the window.

"Dean!" Bobby called out, shaking the kid's shoulder more firmly this time.

The young hunter turned towards him slightly, his arms crossed protectively over his chest, his teeth visibly chattering. He looked up at the bearded man before him with confused, bleary eyes.

"Uhh… Uncle Bobby?" he spoke in a small voice that belonged to someone much younger than his 32 years, "Wh…where are we? Wh… when's D...Dad coming back?"

Alarmed, Bobby quickly palmed Dean's forehead and found him burning with fever.

"Balls!" he swore, noting the boy's sickly pallor and darkly ringed eyes, "What the Hell are you kids trying to do to me!"

He reached into back compartment of the ambulance and fumbled around until his hand found the Temporal Thermometer next to Sam's gurney. Swiping it across Dean's heated brow he almost dropped the instrument as soon as he saw the reading of 102.5 degrees. Bobby knew it was common for someone to spike a fever after surgery, but not one this high. This was a sure sign of infection setting in.

"Damn it, Dean!" he hissed as he hurriedly wrapped one of the blankets around the elder Winchester's trembling shoulders, "You just have to one up your brother in everything! Even fevers!"

He tossed the other blanket over the boy's casted leg then dashed to the back of the ambulance. He hadn't gotten a look at Dean's chart, but he'd bet anything the doctors had ordered him to be on a steady drip of antibiotics for at least a day or two- Not to be dragged away from the sterile environment of his hospital room so the monsters wouldn't eat him.

There was no way for Bobby to set Dean up with an I.V. drip while he was sitting in a cramped up ambulance seat. So he improvised by retrieving a prefilled syringe with a strong antibiotic and some industrial strength Tylenol to hold the boy over for the time being.

"I don't feel good, Uncle Bobby," Dean nearly sobbed once he returned to the front, "Where's Daddy? My leg hurts! Bad!"

"Shh! Shh!" he soothed, petting the kid's spikey hair and holding the Tylenol tablets out to him, "Here take these. We gotta get this fever down fast!"

The younger man obeyed but nearly choked on the pills as he tried to wash them back with the bottled water Bobby provided. The old hunter grabbed Dean's quaking hand to steady it until he could drink the rest of the water.

"Good, good," he encouraged then reluctantly eased the kid's pants down from his hip before prepping the exposed skin with an alcohol swab, "Hold still now."

Dean Winchester, the mighty monster slayer, actually whimpered as Bobby gave him the injection.

"All done," he said, doing his best to seem cheerful to the delirious man, "Better now?"

Dean nodded slightly, almost dozing off until suddenly his eyes grew wild with panic.

"Sammy!" he gasped, "Where's Sammy?"

"He's in the back, idgit," Bobby rolled his eyes, "Quit frettin' over yer brother for once and worry about yourself. Neither one of you are doing so hot right now."

Dean turned his head trying to peer into the back at his brother, then sighed with relief and lay back in his seat. He studied Bobby's movements curiously as the old hunter reached across his shoulder to fasten his seatbelt making sure he was well secured before returning to the driver's side to hotwire the ambulance again.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby," Dean said, a big dopey grin crossing his face as he gazed down at the man working beneath the dash board, "I'm your favorite, right?"

"Oh, what makes you say that?" Bobby grunted. He was never going to live down that Veritas curse.

"You always let me ride shotgun..." the younger man slurred, his eyes falling shut again.

As he watched Dean finally drift off to sleep, Bobby wished he could take his own advice when it came to looking after himself. But there was no time to rest now, not with both his boys so desperately ill. He had to get them someplace safe where they could rest and heal up. Problem was there didn't seem to be many options available to them.

Heading to a proper hospital was out of the question. Who knew how many had been infiltrated by those slimy Purgatory pricks. The Leviathans had also had plenty of Intel on their usual haunts. Any place the boys had ever taken Castiel or even mentioned to him would be in the beasts' collective consciousness.

Wracking his exhausted, sleep deprived brain he tried to think of someone he could call, someone he could trust to tell him where to go.

"_What do I look like to you Bobby?" a very distinctive voice rang out in the back of his mind, "A walking Travel Guide for Hurt Hunter Spa Getaways?"_

"Rufus," Bobby grinned from ear to ear, silently thanking his dear departed friend.

Rufus Turner's cabin in Whitefish, Montana was perfect. Castiel had never met Rufus so his house wouldn't be on the Leviathans' radar. It was well stocked. It was very secluded… It was over 700 miles away. But Bobby was up for the trip. He could handle another sleepless night.

For his boys, he could handle most anything.

TBC

* * *

><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Big huge thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing and patiently waiting for this story. Please let me know what you think of this story. I'm never as confident when it comes to writing drama and angst. Comedy, I can do. But hurty stuff is hard.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please accept my sincere apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. But I'm sorry to say there was a bit of drama on the set. It seems the boys were very unhappy with the direction the story was going. They demanded rewrite after rewrite, refused to come out of their trailers and threatened to walk out altogether on numerous occasions. Finally, after several days of tense negotiations, we've reached an agreement that is acceptable to all parties. I have provided them with a much more coherent plot- and they in turn have agreed to more nude scenes. Everyone's happy. Now on with the show!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own and didn't create these characters.

WARNINGS: Mild cussing, minor angst, and great gobs of hurt/sick boys!

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 6<p>

Bobby had read somewhere that Sleep Deprivation was one of the leading causes of vehicular fatalities due to poor concentration and lowered reaction time. Odd that it was that little nugget of information that popped into his mind instead of the memory that the bottom half of Rufus's paved driveway had eroded away many years ago off the edge of a 50ft cliff. Also odd that the reading skills he had used to comprehend an article on Sleep Deprivation were now absent as he drove straight past the giant signs bearing the words: "CAUTION! STOP! CLIFF!"

"SON OF A BITCH!" he exclaimed, suddenly realizing there was nothing but night sky looming in his headlights.

He slammed both feet against the brakes just before the front wheels of the ambulance rolled right over the rocky ledge. Bobby could hear and feel the precarious ground crumbling beneath the weight of the vehicle and so quickly shifted into reverse and hit the gas. Luckily the rear wheels hadn't yet rolled off the pavement and had enough traction to carry them back up the steep incline and away from the precipice.

As soon as the ambulance was safely back on solid ground, the hunter set the parking brake then frantically spun around in his seat to check on his precious cargo. Sam's heart monitor and I.V. pole had shifted around some during the commotion. But the man attached to the equipment was held securely in place by the straps fastened around his chest and legs. Dean had been spared further injury by the shoulder harness and heavy blankets which kept him wrapped snuggly as a bug in a cocoon. The bundled up boy turned slightly to the side, muttering something about lap dances before falling back into a deep slumber.

"Jeez…"

Bobby finally let out the breath he'd been holding and bowed his head against the steering wheel. This drop off at the back of Rufus's property had once been a favored dumping grounds for newbie hunters before it was more widely known that salting and burning was the way to go. Bobby could hear his old buddy now taunting him for coming so close to adding himself and his two young friends to the mass monster grave. But then again, he'd read that auditory hallucinations were a symptom of sleep deprivation too.

Checking once more that both his boys were safe, Bobby stepped out into the frigid night air and made his way towards the cabin. He hoped the chill would help him stay alert long enough to keep him from doing anything else stupid, like almost driving off a dang cliff. No matter how much his body and mind protested, he wasn't about to surrender to his own exhaustion. Not just yet. Not while his boys were depending on him.

* * *

><p>Unlike your average pack rat hunter, Rufus Turner had always kept his living quarters in immaculate condition ("For the ladies," he would say with a sly wink). Even the Devil's Traps and warding symbols lining the floors and walls had been etched with a decorative, classy flair. As such, it didn't take much more than a quick room to room inspection for Bobby to know that the house was still in good condition and well protected. He got the generator running and water flowing through the pipes again in no time, then focused on cleaning up the master bedroom so the Winchesters could convalesce there.<p>

When he was finished, one would never know that the place had been unoccupied for years- except for the gaping absence of sarcastic wit and boisterous laughter that once filled the house. Bobby shook off the sadness that threatened to overwhelm him as he studied his friend's empty home. He didn't want to waste any more time while his boys were still waiting outside.

Returning to the ambulance, he climbed into the back then cut on the overhead light so he could get a better look at Sam. The boy still hadn't moved an inch, still showed no signs of waking or being aware of anything happening around him- not even when Bobby called out his name or pinched his arm.

"Dang, kid," Bobby said, "I thought that high dive plunge we almost took woulda shaken you up at least a little. Woke me up, that's for sure. Not that I wanna try it again for your sake."

The hunter kept his tone light, but truth be told he was getting scared. It was unnerving to watch someone as young and active as Sam just lying there so still and quiet for so long. The kid had been down and out more than once after what Castiel put him through. But even at the worst of it, he'd still shown some signs of life. Now, if it weren't for the steady beep of the heart monitor and the warmth of Sam's skin, Bobby would swear he was looking down at a corpse.

Suddenly, he recalled Jodie's warning that Sam could slip into a coma and never wake up again. He shook his head, not wanting to accept such a terrible idea. But once the sheriff's words had crept back into his memory, he found it impossible not to dwell on them.

"Damn it, boy," he uttered, staring down at Sam's expressionless face, "You wouldn't dare do that to me or your brother. Not after everything…"

He stopped himself, blinking back the tears that stung at his eyes.

"Hell, what does she know," he grumbled, "She's a cop, not a doctor."

Setting his jaw, he quickly turned to the cabinets and began gathering as many supplies and medicines as he could fit in his pockets then piled the rest on top of Sam's legs.

"Hang on, kiddo," he told his patient as he eased the gurney towards the door, "It's gonna be a bumpy ride."

Bobby mercifully managed to wheel the cumbersome stretcher over the rocky terrain and up the porch stairs without damaging any equipment or dumping its oversized passenger onto the ground. Once inside the master bedroom, it didn't take him long to hook everything back up and then replace Sam's I.V. bag which had run dry hours ago. Finally, he unfastened the straps holding the boy down on the bed so he could move more comfortably- If he would actually move that is.

"You know, I read somewhere," the hunter stated as he rearranged Sam's blankets and fluffed up his pillow, "Cosmo probably- That women are no longer attracted to the strong, silent type. Just thought I'd mention that. You know… in case you needed a good reason to start speaking again."

He frowned when the boy remained as unresponsive as ever. Leaning down to brush the hair away from the sleeping man's face, Bobby spoke softly, but firmly in his ear.

"You listen to me, kid," he said, "Whatever's going on inside that big 'ol skull of yours, you fight it! You hear me? You fight it and keep on fighting it until you can find your way back to us. I know you ain't a quitter. You're much too hard headed to let something like a little concussion keep you down for long. You're gonna beat this. Now I gotta go fetch your brother. But you think on what I said while I'm gone."

He gave the young man's hand a tight squeeze then made his way out into the cold again to check on Dean.

* * *

><p>Ironically, getting the older Winchester brother into the house was going to be the biggest challenge. The kid had made it out of the hospital on crutches all right, but that was when he had a couple man eating medics on his tail. Bobby doubted his young friend would have the same energy or enthusiasm in his current state. The hunter had made note of a wheelchair folded up in the back of the ambulance while he was retrieving the rest of Sam's equipment. But getting Dean into the thing was another matter altogether.<p>

Steeling himself for the task ahead he opened the passenger side door to find Dean snoring soundly. The boy's cheeks were still flushed with fever, but he didn't feel quite as warm when Bobby placed a hand against his forehead.

"Dean!" he said, gently patting the young man's cheek, "Come on, Dean. Time to wake up now!"

"Yeah that's right, sweetheart," Dean slurred, smiling as he turned towards Bobby, "I'm one of _those_ Navy Seals…"

"You'll need a smoother pick up line if you wanna wine and dine me, kid," Bobby groused, "I ain't that easy. Now wake up already! Let's get this show on the road!"

Dean's eyes opened sluggishly and he gazed down at his friend, struggling to focus his vision.

"Bobby?" he spoke in a cracked voice, "We here?… Where here?"

"Rufus's place," the old hunter told him, "Whitefish, Montana."

Dean arched his eyebrows, seeming impressed by the information.

"Isit timefer breakfast a'ready...?"

"No idgit!" Bobby grumped, climbing into the vehicle to undo the injured man's seatbelt, "Now get yer head on straight. I'm gonna need your cooperation here."

"I wan pancakes fer breakfast," Dean mumbled, "Pancakes an' bacon… sausage… bacon…"

"I'll see what I can do in the morning, Your Majesty," Bobby rolled his eyes, "But for now, your chariot awaits. Step one is getting you into it."

Dean squinted down at the wheelchair Bobby had set up for him then looked back at the hunter doubtfully.

"Monster broke my leg…" he reminded the older man.

"I know," Bobby sighed patiently, "That's why this is gonna be tricky. But we can manage it if we work together. Now scoot sideways in your seat… that's it. Now I want you to hold onto my shoulders then stand up on your good leg. I'm gonna ease you down into the chair. Ok?"

Dean nodded, placing his hands on Bobby's shoulders as the older man reached up to support him under the arms.

"Where's Sammy?" he asked suddenly.

"Inside. Asleep. Where we should be," Bobby said, "Get movin' now. I really need to get back in there and make sure he's all right…"

The hunter realized two seconds too late that that was exactly the wrong thing to say to Brother Hen Dean. The man's features instantly flashed deep concern for his sibling and he stood up too quickly, losing his balance in the process. His good leg buckled, sending his casted leg crashing against the side of the ambulance. Dean let out a sharp cry of pain just before his face blanched of all color and he dropped forward in a dead faint.

"Balls!" Bobby yelped, barely able to shift in time to catch the falling man.

He wound up holding Dean across his shoulders in an awkward fireman's carry. Staggering backwards, he nearly collapsed beneath the younger man's weight until he was able to kick the wheelchair into position and dump his heavy burden into its seat. Bobby lay sprawled across Dean's lap, gasping for air until his aching muscles were willing to let him stand up straight again.

Dean was dangling over the back of the chair, limp as a Muppet with no hand up its ass. But otherwise he seemed unharmed by the misadventure.

"All righty then," Bobby panted, "Step one accomplished. Step two: Let's get you inside and in bed… I could use a good long nap myself right about now…"

He quickly adjusted the wheelchair's stirrups to keep the unconscious man's cast propped up then gently pushed him towards the house. His pulse was pounding in his ears and he knew he was about to hit the wall of complete exhaustion. But something about the heat rising up from Dean's skin and the lines of deep pain creasing his brow told the hunter it was going to be yet another long night.

* * *

><p>AN: Not too much of a cliffhanger at the end of this chapter, 'cause I put a literal cliffhanger at the beginning (Hee!). But next chapter will have a non- cliffrelated cliffhanger at the end… Plus nearly nekkid Dean!


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: ACK! All apologies again. This was originally part of a longer chapter, but the second half was giving me fits. I had this part all nice and finished days ago and finally decided- Oh what the Heck! Let it be its own chapter! Why make the peoples wait for Nearly!Nekkid!Feverish!Dean! WOOT!. So here it be. Nearly!Nekkid!Dean (Partly Nekkid!Bobby too- if being in his undies counts)

DISCLAIMER: I did not create and do not own these characters. Eric Kripke did. But he doesn't seem to want them to be Nekkid as often as I do...

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 7<p>

By the time he'd managed to wheel Dean into the bedroom, the wall of exhaustion that Bobby feared he was about to hit instead came crashing down on top of him. The hunter had already laid out a set of clean hand towels and a basin of fresh water then changed the sheets on Rufus's king sized bed in preparation for the kid having to park it in here for some time. He was glad he'd thought to do all this earlier, because he didn't think he had it in him to go searching through the house for these items now.

The bed looked so inviting as he pulled the covers back for Dean and he was sorely tempted to flop down face first into the satiny pillows and sleep for a month. But he had to get Dean settled in and comfortable first. Just as Bobby was pondering how the hell he was going to manage to lift the younger man's dead weight into the bed, Dean granted him the courtesy of coming around.

"Hey, hey, you back with me?" Bobby asked hopefully, helping Dean to raise his head as the boy moaned and struggled to open his eyes.

The kid was still pale as all get out and now he was drenched in sweat and shivering to boot.

"Buh… Buh…?" he stammered, teeth chattering as his gaze finally focused on the man leaning over him.

"Yeah, kid, it's me," Bobby said, rubbing Dean's shoulder reassuringly until he became more alert.

"Buh… Buh… Blueberry?" the kid stated inexplicably.

The hunter reeled back, alarmed.

"P… Pancakes?" Dean pleaded, somewhat more coherently.

"Sleep first, food later," Bobby huffed, "Let's concentrate on getting you into bed now, ok?"

Dean's head dropped to his chin by way of a nod. Bobby patted the back of his sweat soaked neck proudly then knelt down to ease the boy's good foot onto the floor.

"Hope we have better luck gettin' you outta this thing than we did gettin' you in it," the old hunter said as he wrapped his arms around the younger man's rib cage, "Grab onto the hand rests and see if you can't push yourself up out of the chair. I'm gonna try and lift you at the same time, got it? Ready? One- Two- Three- PUSH!"

With a back-straining heave, Bobby got the injured man up out of the chair. He then found himself spinning the boy around in a clumsy one legged waltz as he desperately tried not to drop him or let his cast bump into anything. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around the older man's neck for support, burying his face against his shoulder. He muttered something so softly into the old hunter's ear that it was nearly indecipherable. But it sounded a lot like: '_thoughtyouweredead_'.

Bobby could feel the heat radiating from his young friend's body and knew that his fever had shot skywards in just the past few minutes. He had to get some antibiotics in him stat!

It took a couple more awkward shuffling hops until he got Dean close enough to the bed to begin easing him into a sitting position. Unfortunately, the young man slipped too fast out of his tired arms, jostling his broken leg against the bed frame. Dean's eyes rolled to their whites and his head began to loll back again, but the old hunter kept a firm hand on the scruff of his neck.

"No, no, no, kiddo. None of that! We're not going nighty night just yet!" he insisted, "Come on. Stay with me a little bit longer and then we can both sleep, ok?"

Not sure how much longer either of them could last, Bobby quickly helped Dean out of his multiple layers of clothing. He knew the younger man was in bad shape when he put up no resistance to being undressed like a child.

"There now, isn't that better?" the hunter asked once he'd gotten Dean stripped down to his briefs, "Now you can lay back and relax and…"

"Sss…Sammy?" Dean gasped as he spotted his brother on the other side of the room.

He lunged forward so suddenly Bobby barely had a chance to catch him before he leapt off the bed.

"Boy! Don't you dare put any weight on that leg!" he snapped, struggling to hold the man back.

"Sammy!" Dean called out, desperately reaching over Bobby's shoulder, "OhGod he's still… Lemme go! 'e needs me!... Sss… Sammyneedsme…"

Bobby realized that this was the first time Dean had gotten a really good look at his injured sibling. It had to be a shock to see him lying catatonic and wired up to so much machinery. He didn't dare tell Dean that Sam hadn't moved a muscle or made a peep since they left the hospital. Nor would he let it show how worried he was about the youngest man. Hell, he was plenty worried for both of them right now.

"Hey! Hey! Easy! Easy now!" the older hunter demanded, grabbing Dean's face and forcing him to look away from Sam, "You're not gonna do Sam a lick of good if you wind up breaking yer leg in two again! He'll be ok! But fer now he needs to sleep so he can heal up. You gotta do the same. Now lay back!"

"Uhh uhh…" Dean shook his head as Bobby gently pushed him towards the pillows, "I gotta help… Gotta watch… Sammy… i's mahjob…"

"Wrong," Bobby stated emphatically, "It's my job! I can take care of Gigantor over there. You rest!"

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but pain and utter exhaustion kept him silent. Defeated, he let his head flop back against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. Breathing a sigh of relief, Bobby gingerly lifted the kid's legs onto the bed then covered him up to the waist with Rufus's down comforter.

The older hunter stood up, somewhat wobbly, but quickly shook off the cobwebs of sleep that were winding around his mind. He needed to be fully alert if he was going to play doctor here. Reaching into the basin on top of the nightstand, he splashed a little cool water on his face before rummaging through the pile of medical supplies he'd stashed beneath the bedside table.

By the time he got Dean all set up with an I.V., a full load of antibiotics and the strongest pain killer he could find coursing through his veins, Bobby was feeling close to collapse. But he stopped short when he saw Dean panting hard and tossing his head from side to side, his mouth drawn down in agony.

"You doin' ok, son?" he asked, taking a seat on the bed beside his patient. "Need anything else?"

"Buh… Bobby… M…Mah… L…leg… Hurrss…" Dean grimaced, twisting at the bed sheets beneath him with clenched fists, "Godithurs…Hhh…Hurtsobad… M'm ssssooo hhhott…"

"I know," Bobby sighed, reaching for one of the hand towels he'd laid out and dipping it into the water, "You're fightin' off a Hell of an infection. But hang in there. I gave you the good stuff. Soon as it kicks in you're gonna be feeling plenty of nothing'… Probably be flying high as a kite too."

Dean managed half a smile, then hissed and turned away as Bobby touched the cool cloth against his fevered skin. The old hunter ignored the boy's protests and took his time washing the sweat from Dean's face and chest. He hated seeing the kid like this. The younger man so rarely showed any signs of pain or weakness, it was awful when his defenses were forced down by injury or illness.

Dean was finally breathing more evenly, the deep creases on his face slowly relaxing smooth again. Bobby rinsed the washcloth out then folded it, leaving it resting on Dean's forehead.

"Better?" he asked.

"Called th' hhh…ospital…" Dean muttered.

"What?" Bobby questioned.

"I called the hospital," the younger man repeated, his eyes peeking out sadly from beneath the cold compress, "D… Dad ssss… said never call th' hospital unless i's liferdeath… An'… An' I called…"

Bobby frowned still not comprehending until Dean turned his head towards his brother.

"Buh… he woun't wakeup…" the kid continued, his voice cracking, "Hhh… hhhe woun't wakeup… an' youweregone… Mah… mah leg… I coun't c…coun't watchoutferSammy… 'e got hurt… an'…you… you… ahh… thoughtyouweredead…"

Dean let out a shuddering sigh as tears welled up in his eyes. Bobby had to force back tears of his own as he realized all his kids had gone through without him. He'd spent almost half his life trying to keep these young'uns safe but they just kept on landing in the biggest messes.

"Shh… shh…" the hunter gently dabbed at the younger man's cheeks with the damp towel, "I'm here now. An' you did the right thing callin' fer help. Probably saved yer brother's life. But get some sleep now. I'll be right here when you wake up."

"With bacon…?" Dean asked in a tiny, hopeful voice.

Tired as he was Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at the inner workings of Dean Winchester's mind. He had no doubt he'd be asking for a beer next. Food and drink were comfort for the young hunter- Had been for as long as Bobby had known him. The poor kid was so pained and delirious now the older man didn't have the heart to tell him he had no idea if there was anything to eat in the house at all.

"On a silver platter," he promised instead.

He refolded the washcloth and laid it back across Dean's still warm brow, smiling as the young man finally relaxed into slumberland. One kid taken care of. One more to go.

Shuffling over towards the gurney, Bobby struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to check Sam's vitals one more time. The cardiac monitor's steady beeping indicated a relatively strong heart rhythm, but Bobby still placed his hand on the young man's chest to feel the beat for himself.

"You know, I told your brother you were gonna be all right," he spoke quietly, not wanting to wake Dean, "Don't you go makin' a liar outta me, boy!"

He palmed the youngest man's lax face, running a thumb across his cheek bone as he waited in vain for a response.

"I guess you got a lot of healin' up to do yet," he said sadly, "But could you do us all a favor and at least wiggle a big toe or somethin'? Make us feel a whole lot better."

Moving his hand down to the kid's gargantuan foot Bobby caught himself unconsciously wiggling Sam's toe for him, trying to inspire him he supposed. It was at that moment Bobby realized he'd reached the absolute end of his endurance. He was sure he could hear Rufus Turner cracking on him for playing "This Little Piggy" with Sam Winchester.

"Shut up, Rufus," he grumbled, stripping himself down to his undershirt and boxers as he staggered towards the oversized arm chair on the other side of the room.

He left Sean's suit crumpled on the floor, figuring Jodie could kick his ass over it later. Collapsing into the chair he felt something soft flop down over his face. Pulling the object down, he saw it was Rufus's favorite terry cloth bathrobe- the one he liked to wear on rare off days and refused to toss out even as it grew old and ratty.

Bobby had a vague memory of giving the thing to his pal for his birthday or Hanukkah or something. The details ceased to matter as his exhausted brain finally shut down and he sank deep into the chair with the robe still wrapped around him. He drifted off to sleep at long last, surrounded in the comforting scent of fine tobacco, finer whiskey and the finest of friends…

TBC

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><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: The next chapter (which was originally the second half of this chapter) will be flashback heavy. And feature RUFUS! YAY!<p>

As always I thank you guys so much for your feedback and your patience. You guys rock! You keep me going when the going gets hard. :-)!


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I don't own and didn't create these characters.

WARNINGS: Mild cussing and extreme orneriness. Yup. Rufus is in this chapter!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally to be the second part of Chapter 7, but it got too long winded in the flashback with Bobby and Rufus fighting like an old married couple. So I split the chapter in two rather than cut any of their awesomeness out! YAY BOBBY AND RUFUS!

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><p>CHAPTER 8<p>

"_Do I smell bacon?"_

_Bobby looked up from his paper to see his young guests standing in the kitchen doorway awestruck and wide eyed as a couple of kids at Christmas as they took in the spread he had laid out on the table: Blueberry buttermilk pancakes with maple syrup, thick sliced bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh orange juice, and home fries to finish off the last of the potatoes from the night before. It was a breakfast fit for a king… or at least a pair of little princes._

_Earlier that morning, Rufus Turner had graced him with one of his famous 'we must talk, so drop everything and rearrange your schedule to give me your undivided attention' crack of dawn wake-up calls. Which meant, of course, he'd have to leave the Winchesters to their own devices for at least a couple hours while he and Rufus talked shop. But that didn't mean he couldn't make sure the children had a hearty breakfast beforehand. Besides, it was kinda nice to fix a meal for someone other than himself and he already knew these two appreciated his cooking._

"_Yup. Dig in!" he offered, pulling back a chair for Dean who was practically drooling on the linoleum._

_The older brother started in a rush towards the table, but then stopped himself, shaking his head as he went to help Sammy into his chair first._

"_I can take care of Munchkin here," Bobby insisted, causing Sam to squeal with delight as he lifted the child onto his lap, "You eat!"_

_Dean hesitated at first. But soon hunger overwhelmed his sense of duty and he leapt into his chair eagerly wolfing down his first uninterrupted meal in years. Bobby tended to the challenging task of making sure Sam got more food into his mouth than in his hair or down his shirt, while Dean happily went in for seconds… and then thirds._

_When the kids were full, Bobby quickly cleared the table and got most of the stickiness washed off Sam's hands and face before leading the boys outside to play. Normally, he would never dream of leaving two young children unsupervised in the middle of an auto junk yard. There were more ways for them to get hurt than he dared to count. But what he would be dealing with inside was far more dangerous than anything they would encounter out here. _

_Just to be safe, the hunter picked up a trowel he found discarded in the yard and drew a circle in the dirt. It was far enough away from the broken down vehicles to keep the kids out of trouble, close enough to the house for him to hear them and wide enough to give them plenty of room to run around._

"_I want you kids to stay inside this here circle," he said, then added for good measure, "It's a magic circle with a super force field, like in Star Wars. So you won't be able to cross it even if you try!"_

"_Ya huh!" Sam informed him, easily sticking his tiny foot beyond the 'force field'._

_Damn kids were too smart for their own good these days, Bobby thought to himself before deciding on a different tactic._

"_Stay in the circle or get a spanking," he stated matter of factly._

_The little boy's eyes stretched wide as a lemur's and he instantly stepped back from the line._

"_Don't worry, Sammy," Dean said, picking up the trowel, "I know a great game we can play right in here!"_

_Feeling secure in leaving the boys alone, Bobby adjusted his cap then headed back towards the house, proudly ruffling Dean's hair as he passed by._

* * *

><p>"<em>And just what took you so damn long to call me back, Singer?" Rufus's voice barked over the phone.<em>

"_And a hardy hello to you too, Ru!" Bobby sassed back, "You know I'm looking after John Winchester's kids this weekend... I had to fix 'em breakfast first and make sure they'd stay clear while we talked."_

"_What? You're a man servant now? These Winchesters too high and mighty to fix their own damn breakfast?"_

"_They're kids, Rufus!" Bobby snapped. "Not teenagers like we thought. Really, really little kids. Hell, the younger one's barely outta diapers."_

_The other end of the phone remained silent for a moment. Then Bobby heard the clinking of glass on glass and knew Rufus had just poured himself a stiff one._

"_And John Winchester's still determined to join the life?" the man asked in a low growl._

"_Apparently," Bobby sighed. _

_He had a lot more thoughts on the matter he could share with his friend, but now was not time for a hen cackling gossip session._

"_Hmm…" Rufus muttered as Bobby heard a lighter flick over the line, "Can't picture a hunter's truck with a 'Baby on Board' sign hanging off the tailgate. Also can't quite picture you with an umbrella and flower cap. Bobby Singer never struck me as the Mary Poppins type."_

"_I ain't!" Bobby groused, "It's just for the weekend then they're out of my hair. Now cut the chit chat and let's get down to it. What bee's currently buzzin' in yer bonnet?"_

"_The Galloway Locker," Rufus said after a long exhale of cigar smoke, "Thought you might want to know more about its contents."_

"_Of course," Bobby replied, "I've had the smaller items sitting on my desk for a week waiting for you to get back to me on 'em. I notice you took your sweet time figuring out what exactly I've got in my hands here!"_

_Ever since Bobby had gotten into the life, he had become the unofficial executor of deceased hunter estates. When hunters died, they left behind a wealth of occult knowledge in their journals and libraries, as well as weapons and artifacts both useful and deadly. Bobby would collect these items, archiving some for future reference, passing others on to those who needed them, and destroying or safeguarding anything deemed too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands._

_He'd taken on this task, partly because of his thirst for knowledge and partly because his skills as an auto parts collector oddly lent themselves well to being a collector of occult items. But mainly because no one else wanted the job. _

_This most recent parcel of curious knick knacks had belonged to the late Patrick Galloway, an Irish hunter who had traveled all over Europe and Asia during World War I before making his way to the Americas to meet the untimely end most hunters met. It was quite an eclectic collection and more than Bobby could handle on his own. That was why he had enlisted Rufus's help in itemizing the contents of the Irishman's locker. Who knew what treasures or terrors such a man had encountered in his time?_

"_Bobby Singer!" Rufus's sharp voice brought him back to reality, "Did I just hear you say 'what you got there in your HANDS?' You know better than that you damn fool! If you touched any of that stuff…"_

"_Untwist yer panties, jack ass!" Bobby spoke gruffly into the phone, "Figure of speech. I ain't touched nothin'! I ain't that dumb or crazy!"_

_Or suicidal, he left unsaid. Deep down, he knew that was his true reason for taking on such a highly volatile task when no one else would. He'd gotten into the life because something supernatural had taken his Karen and his purpose for living away from him. His thirst for finding out the truth and saving others from the same fate kept him going, sure. But he wasn't planning on going for long. His end would come, violent and bloody as it did to all hunters. Taking as many risks as he did was just going to hurry that end along._

"_So what'ya find out?" he asked Rufus as he carefully lifted a small bronzed object from the desk with a pair of tongs, "Tell me about this weird little Devil mask thingy. Galloway's journal said it was thought by some ancient priests to glow white in the presence of God…"_

"_Journals say lots of things, Singer," Rufus said, smacking his lips as he took a large sip of his Scotch, "Reality says its Flea Market crap. That you can put in your hand… and slam-dunk it into the nearest trashcan."_

"_Sure you don't want me to make an earring out of it for ya?" Bobby teased affectionately._

"_Nah, I'm plenty happy with this nice warm robe you gave me!" Rufus snorted. "You hang onto it, Singer. Make a necklace out of it and give it to someone real special!"_

_Bobby huffed wryly, chucking the piece of junk into a desk drawer. There wasn't anyone real special in his life. Not anymore._

"_Next item on the agenda," Bobby announced, using his tongs to pick up a larger, fuzzier object, "One rat-ugly rabbit's paw missing the rest of a rabbit."_

_He heard his friend suck in a deep breath and pour more whiskey._

"_That there's one Bad Mamajama," he said in all seriousness, "Super Bad Mojo. Do Not Touch… Ever!"_

"_Point taken," Bobby said, turning the item to and fro, curiously, "So what's the scoop? Galloway mentioned a Conjure Woman in New Orleans…"_

"_Yeah, one seriously pissed off against all humanity Conjure Woman," Rufus emphasized, "That sucker was built to spread big time mayhem. It looks like a luck charm so naturally folks want to get their hands on it. They touch, they get lucky. Win the lotto, meet the girl of your dreams, find the Hope Diamond in your sofa cushions lucky. But when they lose it, their luck turns quick as a cobra. And strikes back just as deadly."_

"_So what happens if ya don't lose it?" Bobby wondered._

"_You always lose it!" Rufus shot back, "That Conjure Woman wasn't playin'! That one's for the keep away pile…"_

"_Salt 'n Burn'd be safer," Bobby said._

"_Nah," Rufus insisted, "Like I said, that Conjure Woman wasn't playin'. You can't get rid of it that easy."_

"_So how do you get rid of it?" Bobby wanted to know._

"_Beats me," came the reply, "I'd lock the thing up tight 'til the cure comes to light."_

"_Well duh, Dr. Seuss. What about this weird Puzzle Box that looks like a Rubik's Cube on acid? Galloway calls it the 'Lament Configuration'…"_

"_Haven't configured that one out yet," Rufus admitted, "Or anything else. Just the fake God-Finder thing and the Rabbit's Foot…"_

"_Damn it, Rufus!" Bobby snapped, "You called me at 6 in the a.m. for two lousy items? What about the rest of this crap coverin' my desk?"_

"_That Rabbit's Foot alone was worth the call! Besides, ain't you got a house full of books you could be lookin' through yourself, Mr. Bossy Pants?"_

"_I'm Babysittin'!" Bobby reminded his soon to be ex-friend._

"_Oh that's right," Rufus snickered, "Too many rug rats ruin the research!"_

"_Well, since you don't seem to have nothin' better to do than sit around in that robe with Johnny Walker and Arturo Fuente, how 'bout you get crackin' decoding the rest of the items on the list!"_

"_Hex Box that Rabbit's Foot, Mary Poppins," Rufus warned, "Before you get sucked into another Sesame Street Marathon."_

"_Get crackin', Idgit!" Bobby repeated slamming down the receiver on Rufus's cackling laughter._

_He leaned back in his chair and ran his free hand down his beard, studying the cursed object in his tongs. One touch would bring good luck… Then death. The shit evil minds could 'conjure' up. And the world was full of such evil things. Evil things no one in their right mind would willingly face. Of course, most hunters weren't in their right minds._

_That was the only reason he could figure Winchester would even consider exposing himself and his small family to the life. Mourning the loss of a dear wife, Bobby understood all too well. He knew how grief could turn you inside out and make you both crazy and reckless. That was how he lived his life- Charging full force towards his death because he could afford to. He had nothing to be cautious for. There was no one counting on him to stick around anymore. Hunters came and went and no one wasted too much time mourning their loss._

_But unlike him, John had a purpose. Two purposes. The pair of little innocents currently scampering around in Bobby's yard. What would become of them if anything happened to John? Or worse, what if something happened to the kids…_

_Bobby rued the question as soon as he thought it, for the answer came directly._

"_NO! IT'S GOT ME!" he heard Dean screaming from outside, "HELP! HELP! IT'S GOT ME! SAMMY! HELP!"_

"_AAAH! NOO! UNCA BOBBY! UNCA BOBBY!" Sam's shrill voice joined in._

"_Balls!" the hunter swore, dropping the Rabbit's Foot back down on the desk and racing out of the den._

_He grabbed his shot gun on the way towards the yard, his pulse racing in trepidation of what he might find upon arriving on the scene._

"_UNCA BOBBY! UNCA BOBBY!" the younger boy's high pitched screams were becoming more frantic._

_But time seemed to slow for Bobby. Every turn he took in his house led him further and further away from the door, further away from his boys. He was desperate to reach them and yet his legs would not move fast enough._

_Terror gripped his heart as Sam's screams grew louder, closer… deeper._

"_BOBBY!" Sam called out again in a clear, adult bellow…_

* * *

><p>"BOBBY!... BOBBY!"<p>

The old hunter startled awake, nearly falling out of the chair as he struggled to regain his bearings. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes then opened them to find sunlight streaming through the windows. How long had he been asleep…?

"BOBBY! … BOBBY!" a desperate voice called out to him.

His attention was drawn at once to the man on the gurney. Sam was in a state of complete agitation, tossing his head from side to side and rolling dangerously close to the edge of his too small cot. Bobby snapped to at once and rushed to the younger man's bedside.

"Sam! I'm here! I'm here," he caught the boy's face in his hands, patting at his cheek proudly as he smiled down at him, "It's ok! It's ok, now! I'm right here! Welcome back, kiddo!"

His happiness was short lived though as Sam continued to flail and remain oblivious to his presence.

"BOBBY!" he shouted again.

"I'm right here, son!" Bobby repeated, slapping harder at Sam's cheeks, "Wake up! I'm right here! What's the matter with you? Can't ya hear me?"

"BOBBY!" Sam cried out once more as if he had no idea where the old man was.

Completely at a loss, Bobby gripped the collar of the unconscious man's hospital gown and shouted directly in his face.

"SAM! I'm right here beside you, boy! Just open your eyes and look! LOOK!"

"No… No…" Sam gasped, "One of them…"

"Kid, you gotta snap out of it!" Bobby insisted, "There's no one else here! Just you and me and Dean! You're safe! WAKE UP!"

"DEAN! NOW!" the kid yelled, still locked in his own world.

Then just as suddenly as the whole awful scene had begun, it ended. Sam's head turned violently to the side as if struck by a blow and he collapsed against his pillow, falling still and silent as death once more.

Bobby stared down at the boy in utter shock and disbelief. The kid was so still and quiet now it was almost as if he had never moved at all. The old hunter half wondered if he had just dreamed the entire event until he heard another voice call out weakly behind him.

"Sammy…?" Dean was rubbing at his eyes and struggling to sit up, "Did… Did I hear… Was Sammy… Did Sam… Wake up?"

Bobby could only shake his head in uncertainty. He had no words to describe what Sam had just done.

"I… I don't know…" he admitted, "He just…"

All at once, Sam let out a soft moan. Dean gasped and began to rise out of bed.

"Stay there!" Bobby warned, "Stay off that leg!"

"Sammy?" Dean called out hopefully.

The boy moaned louder this time and Bobby heard Dean sigh with relief behind him. The oldest man was less optimistic, however. He leaned down, gently stroking the side of the kid's face and scrutinizing his pain etched features.

"Sam…?" he said cautiously, "Sam, you back with us…?"

The kid began tremble beneath the hunter's calloused hand. His brows creased deeply as his breathing grew short and shallow.

"No…. Noooo…" he whimpered, tears streaming from his still closed eyes.

Before Bobby could offer any solace to the frightened boy, whimpers turned to screams.

"NO! NOOO! NOOOOOOO!" Sam roared.

A terrifying howl of sheer agony erupted from the youngest man's lips as he arched his back suddenly, writhing and twisting on the miniscule gurney.

"SON OF A BITCH!" Bobby and Dean shouted simultaneously, as Sam began to thrash against the mattress, his eyes rolled to their whites.

The old hunter threw himself over Sam's gigantic form, desperately trying to still his convulsions. The gurney was tilting precariously, threatening to tip over and hurl both him and the injured man to the floor.

Holding on for dear life, Bobby inwardly cursed himself for not being more specific when he begged Sam to move again. He should have remembered that Winchesters never do anything halfway. Now the kid was in the midst of a full blown seizure!

TBC

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><p>AN: I tossed in a couple of references to the Awesome Mr. Clive Barker. Cyber Cookies to anyone who can spot them! ;-)

UPDATE: Ok, apparently no one knew who Clive Barker was. How sad... for Clive Barker! So I will give away the in joke. Patrick Galloway was the character in a video game called Clive Barker's Undying. He was described as an investgator of the occult and kept a journal of his explorations... sound familiar? It struck me that this guy was just like a World War I era Irish John Winchester- even though the game came out several years before Supernatural. The other Clive Barker reference was the Lament Configuration. This was the puzzle box in all the Hellraiser movies (created by Clive Barker) that would bring forth Pinhead and his pals to anyone dumb enough to open the thing. I thought it would be hilarious if Bobby got a hold of it. So there ya go.

P.S…. OH NOES! SAMMY!


	9. Chapter 9

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am SO sorry to everyone who has been following this story. But the past few weeks have been so full of life drama, family drama, friend drama, work drama, cat drama (Poor Hetfield's down a couple teeth), car drama (what'dya mean these tires don't pass inspection! GRRR!) that I have not been able to get to my computer forEVER!... But you care not for GirlyGhoul drama. You want Supernatural Drama! And I don't blame you. On with the Show featuring Angst! Torment! and Nekkid Imperiled Sam!

WARNINGS: Violence and Gore and Torture (oh my!) Plus strong language including a couple F-Bombs. Intense Sammy Peril with lots of Bobby and Dean angst. And also... Nekkid Sam!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own and didn't create these characters. I just made them imperiled... and nekkid.

* * *

><p><em>Previously:<em>

_The old hunter threw himself over Sam's gigantic form, desperately trying to still his convulsions. The gurney was tilting precariously, threatening to tip over and hurl both him and the injured man to the floor._

_Holding on for dear life, Bobby inwardly cursed himself for not being more specific when he begged Sam to move again. He should have remembered that Winchesters never do anything halfway. Now the kid was in the midst of a full blown seizure!_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER 9<p>

It was the heat that got to Sam first. An overwhelming, scalding heat that was like walking barefoot on melted tar while being blasted with hot wax. His head was throbbing from the heat. Wave after wave of increasing pain came crashing through his consciousness as if someone were literally beating against his skull with a hammer.

Nausea began to build in his stomach and he moaned, wishing for some relief from the pain and sweltering heat. A pair of hands touched his face suddenly. A gentle loving caress that offered him a small amount of comfort… Until he heard the voice…

"Good morning, Starshine," Lucifer cooed close to his ear, "The Pit says 'Hello'!"

Shaken, he opened his eyes to see the Fallen Angel hovering over him, a sledge hammer resting casually on his shoulder and a satchel of newly forged railroad spikes draped across his chest. Sam instantly shrunk back from the sight and felt the all too familiar sting of splintered wood stabbing at his tender exposed skin. It only took him a moment to realize that he was lying prone and naked against Lucifer's favorite torture rack.

"Welcome home, Honey Bunch," the Fiend smiled, running his fingers affectionately through the young man's hair, "I've missed you."

With a gasp, Sam leapt up from the wooden plank and took off running. The Devil merely cackled as he effortlessly caught the boy around the arms and waist and dragged him back towards the slab.

"LEMME GO!" Sam screamed.

"And just where do you think you're going, Precious?" Lucifer sneered, "There's nothing but Hell for miles and miles."

No! No! It couldn't be! He couldn't be waking up in Hell! He'd beaten Lucifer at his own game and never turned the gun on himself… In fact, the whole game itself was never real. Lucifer was never real. The mirage that had been taunting him even admitted as much… So why had the scenery changed on him again?

Before he could ponder the matter further, Lucifer kicked the back of his leg out from under him and toppled him onto the rack. The Beast then crawled on top of Sam, holding him down with his weight and pressing the man's vulnerable flesh against the roughly splintered wood.

"Ummm… Now this is cozy," the Devil smirked, tauntingly patting at the boy's cheek, "Brings back so many lovely memories…"

"You… You're not real!" Sam insisted, doing his best to look and sound defiant even as his whole body quivered in terror, "None of this is real! Dean showed me…"

He grabbed hold of his own injured hand and pressed his thumb into the wound just as Dean had done to prove to him that he was back safe on Earth. To his utter shock and horror, Lucifer neither fizzled nor faded as he had before. Sam pressed harder, grinding his thumb into the cut, not caring if he drew more blood or ripped the stiches. He just wanted the Devil gone from his sight.

"Dean showed you what?" the Fallen Angel snorted, "How to play Patty Cake? Ahh, never mind. I have so, so many interesting things to show you myself. Come on. Let's get you more settled in!"

Giddy with delight, the Beast quickly wrapped a pair of heavy chains around his victim's arms and chest, pulling them tight to keep the man in place.

"NOOO!" Sam roared, struggling in vain against his bonds, "NOT AGAIN! I'M OUT! I ESCAPED! THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!"

He kicked out furiously at Lucifer but the Archangel merely dodged the blow as he chained the boy's legs down. Sam let out a shout of frustration that quickly became a sob. If Lucifer was only a figment of his imagination why wasn't he able to fight back? Why was he trapped in this delusion when just a moment ago he was assuring Dean he was fine and ready to meet Bobby back at his… Oh God!… Bobby's house!… They found it torched but they couldn't find Bobby… And then the Leviathan…

Sam laughed out loud suddenly, nearly hysterical with relief. He continued laughing even as the chains dug into his skin and Lucifer glared down at him as if he were insane.

"This is just a trick," Sam rejoiced, "A total mindfuck! My mind tricked me before into thinking I'd never escaped Hell and the world around me was all an illusion conjured up by you… By the Devil I mean… And now it's making me think I'm back in Hell… I… I just need to wake up and it'll all be over!"

Emboldened by this revelation he glared at his captor, willing him to disappear and the pain and heat to fade away. His resolve began to falter as Lucifer remained standing over him, stroking the handle of his sledgehammer thoughtfully and giving Sam major side eye.

"So let me get this straight" Lucifer said at last, "You mean the whole time you were up there, you thought you were down here and I was tricking you into thinking you were up there?"

The Fallen Angel pounded at his knee, howling with triumphant laughter that chilled Sam to the core.

"I love it!" Lucifer cheered with glee, "You escaped the Pit… And your life still sucked! Oh Sammy, and you did it all to yourself! That is too perfect!"

"But… no… no… no…" Sam stammered, "This is just a dream… Another hallucination! That Leviathan knocked me cold… I just have to wake up! This isn't real! I escaped! I'm… I'm home…"

"Sorry, Snookums," Lucifer pouted in mock pity, "But you're wrong. Dead wrong actually. 'Cause you see, kid… That Leviathan killed you!"

Icy fingers of dread wrapped themselves around Sam's heart and he slowly shook his head refusing to believe the Devil's words.

"No… no… That's not true…" he whispered hoarsely, eyes welling with tears, "That can't be true!"

"Yep. It is." Lucifer beamed, "Remember? He landed the mortal wound right about here…"

The Beast aimed a spike directly over Sam's left eyebrow, then in one swift motion hammered it all the way through the boy's skull and brain, impaling him against the wood on the other side. Sam screamed as a white hot rush of pain shot from his head searing every nerve in his body all the way down to his toes. He remained conscious of the devastating wound, every beat of his heart pulsing out a new surge of agony.

"Real enough for you, Sweetheart," Lucifer asked, leering down close to his captive's blood drenched face. "You're dead. And you're mine... And this time it's forever!"

The Devil's laughter echoed through the Pit as Sam tossed his head back as far as the spike would allow and let loose a cry of utter despair.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!"

* * *

><p>It was like trying to ride a rabid bronco with a hornet's nest tucked under its saddle.<p>

Sam's entire body was being wracked with increasingly violent spasms as Bobby struggled to keep him from falling off the gurney. What had brought on this attack, the hunter had no idea- and no clue how to stop it. All he knew for certain was that this was the worst shape he'd seen the boy in since he was detoxing from Demon Blood. If he'd been afraid Sam wouldn't survive then, now he was terrified. The kid's body was as deeply scarred at his psyche and this time he might not have the strength or the will to pull through.

"Sam!" he cried, hoping to get through to the agitated man somehow, "Sam! Please! You've got to calm down, son!"

The kid answered his pleas to calm down by convulsing hard enough to snap the tubing of his nasal cannula and knock the heavy canister of oxygen into the bedside table. The stack of medical supplies Bobby had carefully organized the night before came spilling down and scattering across the floor.

"Balls!" the hunter swore, praying nothing important was damaged.

"Sammy!"

Amidst all the chaos Bobby could see out of the corner of his eye that Dean was fully alert now and preparing to rush to his brother's aid, broken leg or not.

"Just stay there damn it!" Bobby snapped, fixing the boy with one of his patented death glares, "I can't deal with both of you trying to kill yourselves by falling out of bed!"

"What the Hell, Bobby!" Dean cried, staring horror struck at Sam's writhing form, "How did he go from 0 to Slam Dance in 2.5 seconds!"

"He's having some kind of fit or seizure," Bobby guessed.

Hell, he wasn't even sure if he was dealing with a medical emergency or a supernatural one. With Sam it was hard to tell. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the utter distress and helplessness he saw in the older brother's eyes and turned his full attention back to Sam.

The youngest man's face was contorted in pain, his head thrashing around so forcefully that Bobby was sure he would manage to give himself another concussion. He quickly threaded his fingers through Sam's sweat soaked hair, trying his best to cushion the kid's head from the uncontrollable pounding he was taking. It felt as if he had just stuck his hand inside a furnace.

"Oh, good Lord…" he gasped.

The hunter didn't need a thermometer to tell him that Sam's temperature had risen to a dangerous level sometime in the night. Bobby could have kicked himself for not getting up sooner to check on the kid. The fever raging through Sam's body now was high enough to have triggered this seizure and hot enough to broil his brains. They had to get him cooled down fast!

"Dean!" he called, reaching his hand towards the other man, "Toss me a wet cloth, quick!"

"Shit! Bobby! He's gonna crash!" Dean cried out in a panic.

The old hunter whipped back with both hands to try and prevent the giant man from tumbling off the cot, but then realized what Dean had meant. Sam's heart monitor was bleating out a frenzied alarm that the kid's pulse was beating too fast, too hard. At any moment, he could go into cardiac arrest.

"No! God, No!" Bobby begged, placing his hands on either side of the boy's face "Don't you do this, damn it! We can't have come this far to lose you now! Sam!... SAM!"

He stared down at Sam's prone, shaking form, feeling utterly powerless to help him. The kid's breathing was becoming increasingly labored, his heart rate irregular and dropping. The terrible convulsions were slowing down, but Bobby didn't know if that was a sign that the seizure was ending, or that Sam was slipping away from them.

"Come on, kid," Bobby fought back tears of frustration as he ran his fingers through Sam's hair, "Don't give up now! Come back to us!"

"Damn it, Bobby!" Dean cried out, frantically, "Don't just stand there petting him! Get one of those big Pulp Fiction needles! He needs a shot in the heart to snap him out of it!"

"That only works in the movies, idgit!" the hunter barked, more harshly than he meant to, "He's not just gonna snap out of it…"

All at once, Sam's eyes flew open, startling both his uncle and brother as he drew in a deep breath and sat bolt upright. Before the other men had a chance to react, the kid ripped himself free of all the tubes and wires Bobby had carefully set up for him then hopped out of bed and took off running.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean gasped, "Bobby! Stop him!

"Wasn't expecting that," Bobby declared before giving chase.

The youngest man nearly made it out the door before Bobby managed to catch him around the arms and waist holding him back.

"Whoa! Whoa! Where do you think you're going, boy!" the older man grunted against the wall of muscle trying to break away from him, "Get your butt back in that bed!"

"LEMME GO!" Sam roared thrashing ferociously in the hunter's grasp.

"Good gravy!" Bobby muttered as he struggled to haul the giant back towards the gurney, "He's out of his mind delirious."

Even with Sam in such a weakened condition it was like trying to wrangle a moose into a playpen. He'd had to fight against the kid's brute, adrenalized strength many times before, never realizing how much he needed Dean's help until he didn't have it.

"Hold on, Bobby!"

As if reading his thoughts the elder Winchester ripped out his own I.V. and attempted to vault out of bed… failing miserably. Bobby rolled his eyes as the young man landed hard with a thud and a grunt. So much for the cavalry.

Hooking his foot around the back of Sam's unsteady leg, the old hunter managed to topple the runaway Sasquatch and force him back onto the mattress. The boy continued to struggle, but Bobby held him fast using all of his weight. He was wary of causing the injured man further harm, but there was no way he could let him go running out into the Montana air wearing nothing but an undersized hospital gown.

"Easy! Easy there son!" he said, gently patting the kid's cheek, "Just calm down now! Listen to me. You're safe. You're at Rufus's cabin. Dean and I are here and we're gonna take care of you. Just relax."

"You're not real!" Sam cried as he trembled beneath the older man, "None of this is real!"

The kid's eyes were wild with abject terror. He showed no recognition of where he was or who he was with. Sam had been tormented by hallucinations and Hell flashbacks off and on all week. Bobby had caught glimpses of the boy staring off into space or preparing to fight against some unseen horror. Before, it had taken no more than a word or two from him or Dean to bring Sam back to reality. But now, the old hunter could see that the boy was in it deep and wouldn't be connecting with the here and now any time soon. There was nothing they could do beyond keeping Sam safe until all the pink elephants and blue meanies in his head saw fit to leave him in peace.

"How 'bout we save the existential debate for another day," the hunter spoke firmly, looking Sam square in the eye, "Right now you need to settle down before you hurt yourself!"

As if to prove his point, Sam inexplicably grabbed his injured hand and pushed his thumb directly into the cut.

"Balls!" the hunter gaped as a thick trail of blood oozed from the kid's stitches, "Stop that! Look at what you're doing!"

In desperation, he pulled the kid's hands apart, forcing them to his sides before grabbing the restraints attached to the stretcher. Moving quick as he could Bobby buckled the heavy straps across Sam's chest and arms, pulling them tight.

"NOOO!" Sam seethed, kicking out furiously at the older man, "THIS ISN'T HAPPENING!"

"Damn it, son! It's me, Bobby! Stop fighting me! I'm trying to help!"

The hunter barely managed to dodge a direct blow to the face then somehow got the kid's legs strapped down before he could take another shot. It nearly broke Bobby's heart as the giant man began to sob in his restraints. The boy was already scared out of his wits without being tied down to boot but Bobby didn't know what else he could do under the circumstances.

"Sorry, kid," he said sincerely, panting to catch his breath, "It's for your own good. You were out of control."

He grew alarmed as Sam's pitiful sobs suddenly dissolved into delirious laughter.

"It's a trick! A total mindfuck!" the kid cried out.

"Yeah… something like that…" Bobby said, feeling the conversation was a little one sided.

"Bobby! Give him to me!" a plaintive, pain filled voice called out behind him.

He turned to see Dean still sprawled on the floor where he had landed, holding out his arms as if reaching for a small child.

The exhausted hunter nodded with understanding and wheeled the gurney towards the fallen man, wishing he'd thought to do that earlier. He sure as heck wasn't getting through to Sam, but maybe Big Brother would have more luck. Dean grabbed onto Sam's guard rail for support as Bobby helped lift him back into his own bed so he could tend to his ailing sibling.

"Sammy? Hey, hey. It's ok now. I got ya," Dean said anxiously brushing the hair away from Sam's face as the younger man continued to alternate between sobs and giggles, "Come on. Knock it off with the Cuckoo's Nest act, huh? I'm here… I'm watching out for you."

"No… no… That's not true…" Sam moaned, twisting as far away from his brother's touch as the restraints would allow, "That can't be true…"

"It is, Sam!" Dean snapped in frustration, "Come on, Dude, we got this all straightened out before, remember? I'm real! I'm right here with you!... Sammy…? Holy crap, Bobby! He's burning up!"

"I know," Bobby sighed, "You two have been playing dueling fevers since Sioux Falls. Wet the rest of those cloths and start washing him down. We gotta get him cooled off and calmed down in case his brain is swelling up again."

The hunter regretted being so blunt when he saw the stricken expression that flashed across Dean's face. He cast his eyes down sheepishly and began to search through the medical supplies scattered across the floor. Dean quickly wrung out one of the wash cloths and pressed it against Sam's forehead. The kid slammed his head back suddenly and screamed bloody murder as the cold compress came in contact with his bruised brow.

"Whoa! Sorry Sam!" Dean said, growing disturbed as the younger man began to writhe wildly in his bonds, "Come on now take it easy, kid. Don't be such a wussy!"

Sam was twisting back and forth so hard that the straps began to cut into his flesh, drawing blood.

"Bobby! Bobby come quick!" the older brother cried, "He's freaking out!"

"I'm trying to find that fever reducer!" Bobby stated as he continued to crawl on hands and knees in search of the small vial.

"That might not be enough!" Dean called out, struggling to hold Sam still.

"It worked for you," Bobby insisted just before he found the vial cracked and its contents emptied, "Balls!"

"No, I mean the guy in the ambulance gave him something else before," Dean explained, "Something that made him stop going all Headbanger's Ball and got him chilled out fast!"

"What was it?" Bobby asked.

"How the Hell should I know," Dean snapped, "I was strapped down on the other bed!"

"Untwist yer panties, boy!" Bobby snapped back, "I'll find it!"

He remembered the notation on Sam's chart. What had been administered to stop the first seizures. Something with a 'P'. Damn it all, but he'd left the kid's chart in the ambulance. Who knew if he'd actually brought in the right stuff… or if that vial hadn't been shattered on the floor as well.

"Bobby! Hurry!" Dean yelled, his voice breaking, "He's not doing so good!"

The hunter glanced up at the Winchesters and gasped. Sam's eyes were rolled to the back of his head, blood trickling from his nose and ears as his body jerked and shook uncontrollably. Dean was nearly sick with worry, staring down helplessly at his brother. Bobby scanned the floor frantically, praying to find what the kid needed to pull him out of this state.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Sam screamed at the top of his lungs.

The old man was stopped dead in his tracks. Never in all his years of hunting had he heard such a mournful and agonized sound. He looked up and locked eyes with Dean who was pale and trembling. Bobby's heart sank to the pit of his stomach. It wasn't the fever or the convulsions they had to worry about after all. Whatever dark fantasy had seized Sam's mind was killing him.

The kid was literally dying of fright.

TBC

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><p>AUTHOR'S NOTE: Oh noes! Continued Sammy Peril!<p>

Once again, I must thank everyone for their patience. It's been a tough couple of weeks. I have many fics and wonderous fan art to catch up on.

As always, I appreciate any comments or feedback you care to throw my way. Esp. in the case of this chapter. I was interupted in writing it so many times by Real Life that I'm no longer certain it makes any sense. Please let me know if it's at least somewhat coherent. My brain... it is fried... (But at least I don't have the Devil hammering nails into it)


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